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Gainer, Kim Dian
PROLEGOMENON TO PIERS PLOWMAN: LATIN VISIONS OF THE OTHERWORLD FROM THE BEGINNINGS TO THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY
The Ohio State University Ph.D. 1987
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University Microfilms International PROLEGOMENON TO PIERS PLOUMANI
LATIN VISIONS OF THE OTHERWORLD
FROM THE BEGINNINGS TO THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY
DISSERTATION
Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for
the Degree Doctor of Philosophy in the Graduate
School of the Ohio State University
By
Kim Dian Gainer, B.A., M.A.
# * * *
The Ohio State University
1987
Dissertation Committee: Approved by
A.K. Brown
L. Kiser AdVM'ser C.K. Zacher Department of English To Chariie
ii ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To Alan Brown, thank you for your assistance in translating several puzzling Latin passages. To Lisa Kiser, thank you -for directing me to essential articles on figuralism. To Christian
2acher, my gratitude -for your unfailing patience as I worked through and abandoned several dissertation topics. To Ann Dobyns
1 express my gratitude for your willingness to serve as a sounding board on allegory, and to John Gabel, likewise, on the topic of pseudonymity. To Stanley Kahrl, my thanks for your encouraging me to deliver three sections of this dissertation as papers at scholarly conferences, an exercise that was invaluable in forcing me to clarify my thoughts and tighten my arguments.
Finally, to Edward Corbett, thank you for being an all-round pain and keeping my nose, for the most part, to the grindstone. VITA
June 7, 1955 ...... Born - Glen Ridge, New Jersey
1977 ...... B.A., Rhode Island College, Providence, Rhode Island
1982 ...... M.A., The Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio
1985-Present ...... Lecturer, Department of English, The Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio
FIELD OF STUDY
Medieval English Literature
i v TABLE OF CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS i i i
VITA...... iv
CHAPTER PAGE
1. INTRODUCTION ...... 1
2. JEWISH APOCALYPSE...... 10
3. EARLY CHRISTIAN APOCALYPSE ...... 34
4. THE SHIFT FROM PSEUDONYMITY...... 74
5. THE SHEPHERD OF HERMAS AND THEPASSION OF SAINTS PERPETUA AND FELICITAS ...... 92
6. THE MARRIAGE OF ALLEGORY AND "REALISM" ...... 127
7. "REALISM" IN TWO OTHERWORLD VISIONS:TUNDALE AND EYNSHAM...... 158
8. PROLEGOMENON TO PIERS PLOWMAN...... 194
NOTES...... 213
WORKS CITED ...... 233
v CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION
Such scholars as Howard Patch* have traced certain elements that recur for over a millennium in visionary journeys to the otherworld. The evidence he and other scholars have amassed is testimony to the remarkable resiliency of the topoi of such accounts, but such scholarly studies by their very nature have two unfortunate effects. First, they divide the visions into small segments, in effect disguising their value as coherent literary texts by breaking down the boundaries between one vision and another in order to extract elements of interest. Rarely do we gain a sense of how the writer of a vision intends it to work as a coherent whole. Secondly, by focusing on the persistence of certain toooi such studies emphasize the resiliency of the tradition only in a conservative sense. The visions of the otherworld in fact exhibited a second type of resiliency, a protean ability to adapt themselves to new currents in medieval culture. This study will explore this hitherto neglected feature of the otherworld visions. It will neither methodically document the presence or absence of any given tooos nor will it attempt to elucidate changes in people/s beliefs about the otherworld by delineating changes in the details of torments or geographical 2 features. Instead, each vision addressed will be treated as a literary document in its own right, one informed by a unifying authorial intention. Simultaneously this study wi11 demonstrate how innovation co-existed with tradition by tracing the process through which each author manipulated inherited elements to suit the purposes suggested to him by contemporary conditions and needs.
The visions deserve this kind of treatment if only because of their extraordinary popularity in their own day. Even if not to our taste, they successfully responded for over a millennium to their audiences's changing beliefs, desires and needs. And this success was not, I hope to show, merely the result of a morbid interest in gory scenes of torment or a fascination with the bizarre or exotic—for the otherworld is, of course, the ultimate in the exotic. Instead, an examination of two Christian innovations in particular will demonstrate that the otherworld visions were effective vehicles for exploring the here and now.
First, the source of the otherworld visions, the Jewish apocalypse, frequently contained surveys of Israelite history in the guise of prophecy, but the Christian apocalypse, understandably enough, dropped this content. The loss of these historical surveys was sometimes accompanied by the abandonment of the convention of pseudonym!ty, which had provided the visions with authority by permitting £x eventu prophecy that had of course proved correct, written as it was after the fact. No 3
longer constrained by a conventional past setting, the otherworld
Journey could be used to explore the spiritual crises experienced by contemporary men and women. But the elimination of pseudonymity created anew the problem of authority—the visionary has always been suspect. Writers began to surround these firs t- person narratives with details of the visionary/s life before and after rapture. The vision itself became one part of the story of an individual's salvation, and the visionary's successful struggle with a spiritual crisis that brings on a vision—and not
the otherworld itself—was the subject of the account.
Secondly, the visions always contained the seeds of allegorical interpretations, and such seeds came into full bloom
as a result of the growing awareness that the nature of visionary experience implied that language could only imperfectly convey • what the visionary had apprehended. Some medieval authorities believed that a soul consigned to purgatory or hell, immaterial
as it was and lacking a body whose senses were in communication with its soul, could not experience the torments in any material
sense. Similarly, some argued that a rapt soul, immaterial and
torn away from its material body, could not physically "see" or
experience the otherworld. To a reader accepting these
arguments, all visionary accounts were therefore of necessity metaphorical and doomed to only partial success because words
could create only approximate material analogies to the spiritual world "visited" by the rapt soul. The soul could not have seen 4 the material objects mentioned in the accounts of the returned visionaries: words referring to physical objects, places, and people must represent the visionary's best effort to find material equivalents for his spiritual experience. As Hans
Robert Jauss has said about the medieval depiction of the
invisible, "that sphere cannot be represented mimetically, but only allegorically. . . ,"2 Some, though not all, of those medieval writers who recorded visions took advantage of this peculiar restriction on the language of visionary experience to compose narratives in which the otherworld as it was concretely depicted—with its walls and bridges and mountains and rivers— was not truly the subject at all but a metaphor for conveying a theological truth or portraying a spiritual journey.
Furthermore, even if the events, characters, and places of the otherworld were treated as in some way "real" in the modern sense, i.e., as possessing material or physical qualities, the recorder of an otherworld vision might still imbue it with spiritual meaning through the application of figuralism. The difference between the allegorical method and the figural is concisely summarized by Elizabeth Salter and Derek Pearsall:
in terms of biblical study . . . the allegorical method uses the literal, historical narrative merely as point of departure for various kinds of spiritual interpretations—the figural method maintains the historical truth of Biblical events, while seeing in them, simultaneously, a 'foreshadowing of greater things'. So the Old Testament is 're a l', but is also a 'figure1' of the New Testament: in its turn, the New Testament, fulfilling the Old, is an incarnation not quite complete. It is itself a promise or augury of 5
the ultimate truth which will be revealed after the Last Judgment. It was an attitude which had far- reaching consequences, in art and literature.
According to Erich Auerbach, figuralism not only provided a
■general foundation* for the "medieval interpretation of history," it also frequently colored the "medieval view of 4 everyday reality." The literary possibilities of this world view can be illustrated by examining such a text as the Vision gf
Piers Plowman, a Middle English poem which, while not an account of an otherworld journey, has certain affinities to such narratives. Salter and Pearsall directly apply Auerbach's formulation of figuralism to this fourteenth-century alliterative poem, which, they suggest,
bases itself firmly on a figural interpretation of reality, upon the 'idea that earthly life is thoroughly real, with the reality of flesh into which the Logos entered, but that with all its reality it is only umbra and fioura of the authentic, future, ultimate truth, the real reality that will unveil and preserve the fioura7. This approach populates a text not with the Spirit of Greed but with greedy people and constructs not Castles of Faith but the houses of faithful men. However, a narrative understood figurally means more than a summary of the doings of its gluttonous and faithful inhabitants, for their experiences have spiritual implications, perhaps in the same way that an exemplum, even if purported to be about a "certain man," is in fact not about that man at all. 6 Whether an otherworld vision is imbued with the spirit of allegory or of figuralism—and the presence of one does not rule out the presence of the other—either habit of mind brings an "otherness" to the narrative, a sense that one must search beyond the plot, characters, and setting for a larger signification. In a sense both figuralism and allegory are subsumed by the definition of an Allegory broader than that addressed by Salter and Pearsallt one which is represented by what Jauss describes as the "old basic definition of the allegorical modus dicendi . . . as making possible /the presentation of invisible, past, and future things"." Such a definition, he points out, "opens up a formal relationship between such heterogenous literary genres and traditions as allegoresis, personification, allegorical fiction, typological visionary literature, psychomachia, bestiaries, and love-allegory" It is not my intention to contribute to attempts to delineate the "formal relationship" between these genres and traditions. This study neither will offer an innovative definition of Allegory nor will untangle the myriad connections between such terms as "allegory," "analogy," "metaphor," and "symbol." Instead, I will demonstrate that, in the broadest sense, that of Jauss, Allegory grows into these visions. In addition, I will preserve the distinction between allegory and fioura. But my intent will be not to broaden our understanding of all these modes, but to apply them as already understood to the otherworld visions in order to demonstrate how these narratives were transformed into a medium suitable for exploring not only the actual conditions of the otherworld but also church doctrine and the road to salvation. The starting point of this study will be the Judeo-Christian apocalypses that gave birth to the literary tradition of the otherworld journey. The following chapter will survey the features that are recognized as defining the "genre* of the apocalypse. The third chapter will illustrate the adoption of this tradition by the early Christians, a development which was first a conservative one but which contained the seeds of later medieval innovations. In the fourth chapter the first great shift in the tradition is described, the replacement of a national eschatology with a personal one that made it possible for authors of visions to dispense with pseudonymity and to come forward in their own persons. The fifth chapter illustrates the effect of this innovation in the Shepherd of Hermas and in the Passion of Saints Peroetua and Felic i tas. The sixth chapter demonstrates both how the use of non-pseudonymous narrators mandated certain additions to the narratives and how theories of the nature of the otherworld permitted certain interpretations of otherworld journeys. The seventh chapter demonstrates the effect on vision narratives of the crystallization of the idea of purgatory in the twelfth century and the codification of confession in that same century. This chapter also demonstrates 8 the effect of the figural view of the world on the construction of otherworld journeys, suggesting that the highly developed concrete quality of the twelfth-century otherworld visions in no way contradicted metaphorical interpretations of otherworld visions but rather reinforced them. This study has its own purpose and stands on its own as an examination of texts that in and of themselves are worth studying. Nevertheless, it may also be viewed as a prolegomenon to a further study. While tracing the evolution in the tradition of the otherworld vision I have Kept in mind the fact that the changes make the tradition a suitable model for certain visions other than those of the otherworld. In fact, this study was sparked by the realization that, just as Dante was influenced by the otherworld visions in his Divine Comedy, so too may have William Langland have been influenced in the composition of the Vision of Piers Plowman. My examination of the apocalypse and its descendants was thus provoked by an interest in Piers Plowman. For this reason, after reviewing the seminal texts, 1 have selected for examination those visions that have some connection with the British Isles and that could reasonably have been expected to have directly or indirectly influenced a writer of English. Given the wealth of material, it was imperative to choose some kind of selective principle, and this geographical yardstick seemed as sensible a guide as any. In addition, such a grouping would be logical even in the absence of an interest in 9 the antecedents of Piers. Visions truly flourished in the British Isles, and any study of the longer, more developed visions becomes virtually a study of this insular tradition.4 From among these insular visions I have selected those originally composed in Latin, though some were later translated into English. In addition all fall into one or more of these categoriesi each was composed by an Englishman, or recorded the experience of an Englishman, or demonstrably circulated in England. The visions of Drihthelm, Furseus, the Monk of Uenlock, Tundale, Eynsham, and Thurkill all fall into one or more of these categories. The Vision of Adamnan. however, is excluded from this dissertation because there is no evidence that it was ever translated from Irish into Latin. It may have exerted an indirect influence on Latin visions written in the British Isles, but, given the wealth of examples, it seemed unnecessary to include a discussion of this vision when others had a more demonstrable and obvious influence.^ The Puroatory of St. Patrick is also excluded because, while it contains the traditional elements of the otherworld journey, it is not a vision, and the author does not, therefore, have to grapple with the peculiar problem of putting the incorporeal into the words used to describe the material world. Whatever the spiritual meaning of the tale of Owain Miles, he journeys through a physical realm and what he witnesses he sees through material, fi not spiritual, eyes. Finally, no attempt has been made to 10 -follow the career o-f elements and ideas that were derived from the otherworld visions but that were incorporated into sermons or collections of exempla or other non-visionary texts. The history of such disconnected otherworld elements in England has been exhaustively documented by Arnold Barel von Os?; and, to reiterate my opening comments, I am not concerned with such topoi for their own sakes. In short, this study will be devoted not so much to tracing the given content of otherworld visions, but to how, and to what end, that content was handled in any one vision. CHAPTER II JEWISH APOCALYPSE In the last two centuries be-fore the Christian era, a form of literature, the apocalyptic, developed as a vehicle for eschatological revelation. Originally Jewish compositions, these first-person, pseudepigraphical narratives were quickly adopted by early Christian writers, who incorporated Christian material into Jewish apocalypses and also composed new ones modeled on the old. In eastern Christendom, apocalypses survive in Greek, Syriac, Coptic, Slavic and Armenian and were being composed perhaps as late as the fourteenth century.* In western Christendom, the tradition was embodied in Latin translations of the Vision fif Ezra, the Testaments of the XH. Patriarchs, the Ascension of Isaiah, the Apocalypse of Thomas, the pseudo- apocalyptic Shepherd of Hermas. and the Apocalypse of Paul. the latter becoming widely known in varying recensions as the Visio Sancti Pauli.2 Many apocalypses survive in Greek, Coptic, and Armenian, and fragmentary evidence exists that many were translated into Latin, but this study will explore the influence of only those which arrived as complete texts in Latin Christendom. I am not so much concerned with the history of those elements or ideas, which, 11 12 divorced -from the structure of the apocalypse, came to permeate other genres such as the debate or the exemplum or the homily.'9 Rather 1 wish to trace the formal history of this literary tradition as it was altered to suit the changing needs and motives of successive generations of writers. In some later study I hope to determine which complete accounts could have had a direct or near-direct influence on English writers, for the effort may help us solve certain generic questions about such late medieval English poems as Uilliam Langland's Piers Plowman, which has defied efforts at easy categorization. Given the popularity of visionary eschatological narratives in England, could there not have been influence on a poet who likewise composed a visionary narrative, albeit one centered around content that—superficially at least—seems different from that of otherworld visions or visions of the last things? It would seem odd for a poet recording a vision in fourteenth-century England to have been untouched by the popular eschatological visions. The Visio Sancti Paul i . for example, which on the continent enjoyed profound popularity and an influence that A culminated in Dante's Commedia . was also well-known in the British Isles. Twenty-two of the forty-six texts classified by Silverstein are found in British libraries, and most, if not all, of these are found in manuscripts that circulated in Britain during the Middle Ages.5 The influence of this apocalypse, as well as others, can be traced in Britain through the years until 13 the great twelfth-century resurgence of visionary writing that gave birth to the Vision of Thurki11. the Vision of Tundale. and the Vision of the Monk gf Eynsharo. each of which hada British connection.* Morton W. Bloomfield, in a discussion of the possible influence of "apocalypse" on fourteenth-century British poetry, in particular the Vision of Piers Plowman, suggests that there is no such genre,^ and certainly there has been much controversy about both the status of the term "genre" and that of "apocalypse." Nevertheless, with many caveats, students of Jewish and Christian apocrypha do use the term "apocalypse" to identify a genre or a literary tradition. In his introduction to "Apocalypses and Related Subjects," a survey of contemporary scholarship, P. Vielhauer observes that before the Christian era no "common title" was applied to the texts now labeled p apocalypses. The writer of the Ethionic Enoch, for example, characterized his narrative in several different ways: as "Symbolic utterances," as a "Vision," as "Blessings," as "Wisdom sayings," and as "Sacred sayings" Canon perceived the sim ilarities between the Revelation of John, the Revelation o£ Peter, and the Shepherd gf Hermas and labeled them all as "revelations" (Vielhauer 1965a 586) | but as John J. Collins has observed, ancient use of the term "apocalypse" is today "not a reliable guide to the genre."* A text labeled in 14 ancient times as an apocalypse may today be classed as something else, while some texts not tagged with that term may be placed with the apocalypses (Collins 1979a 2). Nevertheless, in spite of the lack of consistent terminology in the pre-Christian period, Vielhauer points out that the Jewish Apocalypses share "definite formal peculiarities," which students ought to "regard as fixed features, as elements in the style of this literary genre" (Vielhauer 1945a 582). Similarly, Collins, writing about both Jewish and Christian documents, identifies apocalypse as a "1iterary genre" in the sense that the term identifies "a group of written texts marked by distinctive recurring characteristics which constitute a recognizable and coherent type of writing" (Collins 1979a 1). Let us accept, then, the contention of Vielhauer and Collins that there is indeed a literary genre and let us adopt, as they do, the term apocalypse as an appropriate label. There is still a possible source of confusion. The adjective derived from "apocalypse" has been used not only to identify a distinctive set of texts but also to label a distinctive concatenation of ideas. By differentiating between these two uses of the term "Apocalyptic," Vielhauer tries to avoid confusion between apocalyptic and eschatological ideas and the medium in which such ideas are found. The term designated! first of all the literary genre of the Apocalypses, i.e. revelatory writings which disclose the secrets of the beyond and especially of the end of time, and then secondly, the realm of ideas from which 15 this literature originates. (Vielhauer 1965a 582)*® His practice will be followed in this stud/. 'Apocalypse* and 'apocalyptic* will be reserved for discussions of the features of the literary tradition. "Eschatological* will be reserved for the complex of ideas that, originally at least, provided the subject matter of the apocalypses. Vielhauer delineates four main features in Jewish writings that are designated as apocalypses, and, with some variations, his formulation, which was meant to serve as a summary of scholarship, reflects the findings of other students of this literary tradition. <1 will generally refer to this genre as a literary traditionin order to emphasize the historical connections within thisset of texts.) First, such writings are pseudepigraphical. Theauthor provides his narrative with authority by setting it in the past and attributing it to some great man (Vielhauer 1965a 583). Second, such writings present accounts of revelations that, unlike prophecy, are seen rather than heard! The Apocalyptist receives his revelations mostly in visions, whereas they were granted to the prophets mostly through auditions . . . the visions predominate so strongly that the Apocalypses are generally presented in the form of an account of a vision. The apocalyptic takes place in various ways; first, through a dream . . . and then through visionary ecstasy. . . . (Vielhauer 1965a 583). Eventually visionary ecstasy, in which a person falls into a trance, comes to predominate over the dream-vision. In particular, apocalypses are increasingly cast in the form of 16 visionary raptures, in which the soul of a wide-awake person is depicted as having been seized and drawn out of his body. The narrator recounts "changes of location” and wanderings in "strange and mysterious regions on earth and in heaven" (Vielhauer 1965a 583). In time the account of the journey takes over the apocalypsei "The idea of the journey to heaven, originally only a means to an end, becomes the theme of a special literature in which cosmological, astrological and other-worldly secrets in general are disclosed . . ." (Vielhauer 1965a 583). It is this branch of apocalypse that will become extremely popular in the West.** A feature concurrent with the visionary nature of this genre is the presence of supernatural mediators. An apocalyptic vision is a picture, whether one "which represents the occurrences themselves directly, or a picture which portrays them indirectly, in the form of symbols and allegories" (Vielhauer 1965a 583-84). In the case of symbolic or allegorical pictures an explanation is essential. This is given by a mediator of the revelation. Thus Daniel explains the dream of Nebuchadnezzar. Generally an interpreting angel, an anoelus interores. takes over this role, as, for example, in Dan. 7 where the seer experiences the vision and its interpretation in a dream. In eth. Enoch there is quite a number of these anoeli interoretes. (Vielhauer 1965a 584) Only in a few apocalypses is the visionary directly addressed by God or is the reader left to reach his own interpretation (Vielhauer 1965a 584). So pervasive are these anoeli interoretes that, to Collins, the presence of supernatural mediators whose 17 task is to elucidate the symbolic or allegorical scenes is a key ■feature which allows us to distinguish the apocalypse -from other revelatory traditions: Uhile oracles, testaments and revelatory dialogues all -frequently contain eschatological material analogous to that -found in apocalypses, they all lack some aspect of the apocalyptic manner of revelation. Oracles are not mediated at all, but are uttered directly, testaments are mediated by a human figure, and revelatory dialogues lack the narrative framework which describes the process of revelation. In neither Vielhauer's nor Collin's analysis does eschatological content alone determine whether a document should be classed as an apocalypse: the method of revelation must also be considered. The third feature identified by Vielhauer is the presence of ■Surveys of History in Future-Form": Related to the fiction of antiquity is the fact that the apocalyptic writers frequently present the history of the past right up to their own present time in the form of prophecies. This is always followed by a prediction of the End, and on this the emphasis lies: the present of the actual This feature is, it must be emphasized, a distinctively Jewish one. Finally, Vielhauer points to the fact that apocalyptic texts frequently survive in co-existence with other literary traditions. Frequently the apocalypse was incorporated into a larger structure. For example, some apocalypses are combined with farewell discourses, in which children gather around the death-bed of a great man, who includes in his farewell speech or testament a narrative of a vision or rapture that he had earlier le experienced (Vielhauer 1965a 586-87). Yet such subordinate apocalypses can be, as Collins points out, " intel1igible as independent units": This does not necessarily mean that they have ever existed as independent works. In many cases recognizable units are embedded in larger works and we cannot be sure whether they ever circulated independently. If they constitute coherent wholes which are intelligible without reference to their present context, they can qualify as members of a genre. (Collins 1979a 1) On the other hand, an apocalypse itself could incorporate other literary forms. As Collins observes, "every apocalypse contains a number of smaller recognizable forms—such as visions, prayers or exhortations," but "the larger frameworks, within which these elements are held together, are also marked by distinctive recurring characteristics which constitute an equally recognizable type of writing" (Collins 1979a 3). Apocalypses also frequently include prayers, which are often placed between visions and their interpretations, and which may be requests for an explication of the vision (Vielhauer 1965a 587). Lastly, ethical exhortations are, according to Vielhauer, always present: . . . a l l Apocalypses include paraenesis, both exhortations to repentance and conversion in view of the imminent end and of judgment, and also paraenesis in the form-critical sense of the word, i.e. traditional ethical exhortations in the form of maxims and series of aphorisms which are sometimes arranged thematically. (Vielhauer 1965a 587) This last feature is not, however, included among the "defining characteristics" of apocalypse by Collins, who classes it among the "less significant elements" that nevertheless "recur with 19 notable -frequency" (Collins 1979a 8): Paraenesis by the mediator to the recipient occurs very rarely. It is noted in the paradigm, however, because it is a significant element. There is little doubt that all apocalypses seek to influence the lives of their readers and many imply exhortation to a specific course of action. The hortatory purpose is usually implicit in the work as a whole, but is expressed explicitly in the few works which contain paraenesis. (Coll ins 1979a 9) Whether one considers Vielhauer's or Collins7 paradigm, however, the apocalypse is a supremely ethical medium.*2 The Jewish apocalypse, then, is a pseudepigraphical dream- or ecstatic vision, sometimes incorporated, in a testament and often incorporating prayers and exhortations, that reveals the secrets of the last days, frequently as a culmination of a survey of history through purported prophecy, but also sometimes through the medium of a journey. Consistent with its visionary, as opposed to auditory nature, it is a genre which relies heavily on symbol and allegory, a feature which necessitates the presence of supernatural mediators. Dialogue is at least latent in apocalypse. Many of these features can be illustrated by an examination of the Testaments of the XII Patriarchs. a document which incorporates short apocalypses into several of the farewell narratives of the twelve sons of Jacob. Rediscovered in the Ulest in the thirteenth century and translated into Latin by Robert Grosseteste, who believed in its authenticity, the collection was written or at least gathered together in the second century B. C. 20 and is essentially Jewish, though its contains later Christian interpolations.i *3 R. H. Charles includes the Testaments of the XII Patriarchs under the heading of apocalypse in his collection of translations of apocryphal texts, but not all the testaments contain apocalyptic or even visionary matter. However, the testaments that do incorporate vision and apocalypse—those of Reuben, Levi, Naphtali, and Joseph—are illustrative both of the range and potential of vision. All are allegorical in the most essential way because the fortunes of Judah and Levi and the other sons of Jacob represent not only the fortunes of those individuals as recounted in Genesis but also the fortunes of the twelve tribes throughout Old Testament times, indeed, even through the period of the last days to come. The eighth testament, that of Naphtali, incorporates not one but two symbolic and prophetic dreams, a fairly common state of affairs—witness the series of visions in the canonical book of Daniel. the archetypal apocalypse.14 In the guise of these dreams, Naphtali both recounts the history of Israel and predicts its ultimate deliverance. The past history of the twelve sons of Jacob that Naphtali purports to recount simultaneously represents the future of Israel, including the events of the last days. For example, in his second dream, Naphtali sees Jacob and his twelve sons standing by the sea when a ship without a crew sails by. The ship is rather conveniently labeled "The Ship of Jacob” Levi and Judah sharing one (TNaph61 PG II: 1111: Joseph . . . cymba fuoit) . The brothers are then *all dispersed, even to the outer limits* (TNaph 6 : 7; PG II: 1111: Disperoimur ioitur omnes. usoue in terminos). But Levi puts on sack cloth and prays. The ship is somehow reconstituted and reaches land, Jacob reappears, and all rejoice together. This narrative, as well as the other apocalyptic vision contained in the testament, is introduced into the farewell discourse with a formulaic ”1 saw* that signals the start of a vision.** In addition, after both visions have been recited they are clearly identified as dream-visions, for Naphtali tells his children that, *These two dreams I recounted to my father...” (TNaph 7: 1; PG II: 1111: Haec duo somnia dicebam patri meo) . But in addition to illustrating that minor feature, the vision summarized above exemplifies most of the criteria identified by Vielhauer and Collins as defining the tradition of the apocalypse. The content is of course, eschatological, dealing as it does with the last days^i Naphtali tells his children that he has shown them "the last times, all things that will happen in Israel* (TNaph 8: 1j PG I I : 1111: tempora extrema, ouoniam omnia fient in Israel). He orders his children to command their own 22 offspr ing . . . to be in unity with Levi, and Judah, -for through Judah will salvation arise for Israel, and in bin will Jacob be blessed. Through his kingly power Godwin appear [dwelling among men on the earth], to save the race of Israel, and to assemble the righteous from among the nations. [. . . uniantur Levi et Judae. Per Judam enim orietur salus Isrrel [sic], et in ipso benedicetur Jacob. Per sceptrum enim ejus apparebit Deus, habitans inter homines in terra, ut sa'vet genus Israel) et congregabit justos ex gentibus. In addition to conveying eschatological content, like a typical apocalypse, the Testament of Naphtali is pseudonymous, put as it is into the mouth of one of the sons of Jacob. Through vatic inium ex eventu. prophecy after the fact, the pseudonymous narrator is able to survey the history of Israel. The revelation is conveyed in the somnia through sight, not through hearing: Naphtali is not told what will happen to Israel; instead, he sees Israel's future. Furthermore, this envisioned future is enveloped in symbol and acted out in allegory. The ship of state, so to speak, passes through turbulent times, loses direction, and is destroyed, its crew scattered into exile. Within the vision the translocation of the narrator's soul is at least implied even if no elaborate journey is recounted. In his first dream Naphtali sees the vision taking place on the Hount of Olives, a location which, according to Kee, "is in keeping with the late prophetic tradition which expects God's eschatological activity there both in judgment . . . and in revelation" 23 The revelations proper, the dreams as experienced by Naphtali, represent examples o-f a visionary left to his own devices, though the meaning of what he sees is hardly difficult to construe. Naphtali does explain the dream-visions to his own children, and in doing so embeds them in a context of ethical exhortation, for he urges his children to "achieve the good," promising them that "there will be a virtuous recollection on the part of God for your good work" An ecstatic vision contained in the third testament, that of Levi, approaches even more closely to the paradigms of Vielhauer and Collins. Like Naphtali/s somnia. it is pseudonymous and allegorical. Furthermore, and again as in Naphtali's dreams, the vision simultaneously recounts history in the guise of prophecy and reveals the events of the last days. The composer of this testament "obviously thinks that he is standing near the day of judgment" (Kee 788 n 1), and this apocalyptic testament is therefore filled with warnings to society that judgment is imminent. The vision is in addition a clear illustration of the apocalyptic journey and of the role of the anoeli interoretes— the visionary's spirit, accompanied by an interpreting angel, travels through the heavens. 24 The writer begins his apocalypse by utilizing allegory to convey, through the actions of personifications, the lamentable state of affairs in his own time. When Levi was tending the flocks as a young man of about twenty, "a spirit of understanding from the Lord came upon" him, and he "observed all hUman beings makingtheir way in life deceitfully. Sin was erecting walls and injustice was ensconced in towers" 1054: . . . Soiritus intellectus Domini venit super me. videbam omnes homines occultantes viam suam. et quod muros aedificavit sibi ips1 injustit ia. et super turres iniqui tas sedit) . The youth grieves over mankind and prays that he will be delivered. As will often be the case in later medieval visions, Levi receives his revelation during a period of mental turmoil or mourning: Then sleep fell upon me, and I beheld a high mountain, and I was on it. And behold, the heavens were opened, and an angel of the Lord spoke to met 'Levi, Levi, enter!' (TLevi 2: 5-6) [Tunc cecidit super me somnus, et contemplatus sum montem excel sum. . , . Et ecce aperti sunt coeli, et angelus Dei dixit mihit "Levi, ingredere." In the company of the angel, who explains the significance of the scenes that he observes, Levi visits the seven heavens (seotem | Q coelis). Levi briefly describes the first, which contains "much water suspended," and the second, which is "much brighter and more lustrous, for there was a measureless height in it" (TLevi 2: 7, 8). Levi asks the angel to explain these sights. 25 The angel replies with a promise that Levi will see an even greater heaven and with a prophecy of the role the tribe of Levi would play in the advent of a messiah. Do not be amazed concerning this, for you shall see another heaven more lustrous and beyond compare. And when you have mounted there, you shall stand near the Lord. You shall be his priest and you shall tell forth his mysteries to men. You shall announce the one who is about to redeem Israel. Through you and Judah the Lord will be seen by men, [by himself saving every race of humankind]. ["Ne mireris in his;" alios enim quatuor coelos videbis clariores et incomparabiles, cum ascender is illi c; quoniam tu prope Dominum stabis, et minister ipsius eris, et mysteria ejus annuntiabis hominibus, et de venturo liberare Israel praedicabus; et per te et Judam apparebit Dominus inter homines, salvans in ipsis omne genus hominum. . . . (PG 11:1054)] The angel then explains the features of all six inferior heavens. The first or lowest, the one closest to the earth, is dark because "It sees all the injustices of humankind" (TLevi 3: 2). The second "heaven," in preparation for the day of judgment, contains fire, snow, and ice, features that will reappear as torments in later visions. Furthermore, in this place dwell the "spirits of those dispatched to achieve the punishment of mankind" (TLevi 3: 2). Similarly, in the third heaven, waiting to play their part in the last days, are "armies arrayed for the day of judgment to work vengeance on the spirits of error and of Beliar" (TLevi 3: 3). In the fourth heaven are the saints and angels who serve God by offering him spiritual sacrifices—a "rational and bloodless oblation"—to compensate for the sins 26 committed out o-f ignorance by the "righteous ones" (TLevi 3:6). Dwelling in the fifth heaven are angelic messengers (TLevi 3:7). Finally, in the sixth heaven, the one closest to the seventh heaven in which the Lord dwells, are thrones and authorities praising God (TLevi 3: 8). This description of the heavens contains the seeds of a later development. As Levi is guided through the heavens, he learns many things, but there is no indication that he progresses; that is, his soul cannot be said to have been transformed to some higher level. But later visions take advantage of the fact that the discrete levels of the heavens can be made to correspond to stages in the education of the visionary. Dialogues will develop in which the anoeli interoretes verify that the visionary is ready to move on to the next stage. The journey through the heavens was thus peculiarly suited to being transformed into an allegorical journey. After explaining the sights in the two lowermost heavens and describing the highest heaven, the angel launches into warnings about the consequences of the behavior of thoughtless ( insensibiles) men whose continuing sinfulness provokes God's anger. The angel describes some of the signs of the coming last days, that, incredibly, these sinful, obdurate men will nevertheless ignore: the earth will tremble, stones will shatter, the sun will be extinguished, the waters will dry up. Levi's prayer for deliverance will, however, be heeded, and the angel 27 prophesies about his priestly role and that o-f his descendants. The angel's words are con-firmed when the gates of the uppermost heaven are opened and Levi sees the enthroned Lord, who gives him his priestly commission, which will last until God himself comes down to earth to "dwell in the midst of Israel" (TLevi 5: 2). Having been commissioned, Levi is led back to earth and awakes. Levi, like many later visionaries, has a role to perform back on earth and cannot remain in heaven. Another vision incorporated into the Testaments is that of Reuben, who recounts the things that he "saw" (vidi) during the seven years he spent in penance for committing fornication with Bilhah, his father's wife. This vision is not in fact an apocalypse—Reuben is not describing the last days—but it will be described here because it contains the kind of quasi- all egorical figures that are encountered in such a Christian apocalypse as the Visio Sancti Paul 1. Reuben describes for his children seven spirits that according to H. C. Kee "seem to be human qualities, or at least each exploits some basic human quality" and that are set up as the adversaries of a man at his birth (Kee 782 n 2). They are the spirits of life, of seeing, hearing, of smell, speech, taste, and of procreation. He then describes an eighth spirit, that of "sleep, with which is created the ecstasy of nature and the image of death" (TReub 3:1j PG II: somni . . . cum q u o creata est exstasis naturae, et imaoo mortis). This eighth spirit "forms an alliance, which results in 28 error and -fantasy* the "spirits of error,* each of which exploits the opportunity provided by the frailty built into mankind through the spirits that possessed him at birth. On the one hand, the author of the Testament of Reuben is formulating a psychology of sinning, an explanation of events in a world inhabited by supernatural beings whose influence accounts 20 for the misbehavior of men under their control. On that level the account is literal. But like the Jewish descriptions of heaven, it is an account susceptible to allegorization. The spirits can be viewed as literal agents, but they can also be viewed, as Kee implies, as personifications of human qualities. This vision, if detached from the specific beliefs underlying it, could very easily be transformed into an allegory. And ultimately, after reappearing in later visions, such figures become fully allegorical, personifications of human qualities instead of agents that have a real effect in the world. At least initially, many of the features illustrated in the above summaries are adopted by early Christian writers. Like the. Jewish apocalypses, those of the early Christians portray visions and raptures as the media of revelation (Vielhauer 1965a 600). The Christian apocalypses are also pseudepigraphical more often than not, but among the exceptions to this rule are the 21 Revelation of John and the Shepherd of Hermas. The latter is called a special case by Vielhauer because it is not *a real 29 Apocalypse" (Vielhauer 1965a 599); but in -fact, as my fifth chapter will demonstrate, its special nature provides an illustration of the direction the tradition of the apocalypse will take once it substitutes Christian content for Jewish surveys of history. For the surveys of history drop out as the Christian apocalyptists concentrate on the theme of the parousia (Vielhauer 1965a 600). Then, as that prospect becomes more remote, a further shift occurs: The themes of Christian Apocalyptic became more limited the longer it continued. At firs t, the imminent expectation of the Parousia was the organizing principle, but as time passed the apocalypses more and more centered on revelations concerning the Anti-Christ and the afterlife and its divisions. In the New Testament Anti-Christ and the afterlife are only two subsidiary themes in apocalyptic passages, but from the middle of the second century these become the central themes of Christian apocalypses. (Vielhauer 1965a 600). This shift in content can be illustrated by comparing the Apocalypse of John with the Apocalypse of Peter, which Christian Maurer describes as "an outstanding and ancient example of that type of writing by means of which the pictorial ideas of Heaven and Hell were taken over into the Christian Church.*^ The Apocalypse of John reveals the last days, "the final struggle and triumph of Jesus Christ." The Apocalypse of Peter. on the other hand, centers "on the situation in the after-life, on the description of different classes of sinner, on the punishment of the evil and the salvation of the righteous." There is no evidence that the Apocalypse of Peter was ever translated into 30 Latin, but the book exerted an influence in the west through the Apocalypse of Thomas and through the Visio Sancti Pauli. an influence which can be traced "right up to the full tide of description in Dante's Divina Commedia" (Mauer667). This study will demonstrate however that even these new "central themes" will give way to other themes as the apocalypses extend their influence into the Middle Ages. The use of vision, particularly ecstatic vision, survives, and some writers continue to convey traditional content, but other writers find new uses for the tradition beyond conveying information about the Second Coming, and even beyond conveying information about the afterlife. The accounts also come to be more individualized as they cease to be pseudonymous and are instead attributed to contemporary clergy and laymen, sometimes even sinful ones. New means are found to provide authority to a set of literary conventions that had become detached from the environment in which they originated. The medieval writer thus found at hand a literary tradition with the following features: Its visions frequently take the form of raptures in which the soul of the visionary, like that of Levi, travels through the otherworld on a journey that could easily be divided into stages. With a shift of focus to the visionary, when the visionary assumed more importance than as a mere vehicle for the visions and became the subject of his own visions, the stages become less reflections of physical movement 31 than mental pilgrimage. The content of the visions, which, with their emphasis on either direct or indirect ethical exhortation, had never been entirely devoted to eschatology, would become not so much the landmarks of the otherworld as the spiritual progress of visionary and other human characters. The nascent dialogue would also prove to be well-suited to a shift from physical to mental pilgrimage. Early "dialogue,” the questions and prayers of a rather "cardboard" narrator, provided the justification for the explanations of the anoel> interoretes. Early apocalyptic writers were concerned not with what dialogue revealed about the progress of the narrator but with what it revealed about the last days or the otherworld. Using the otherworld as a psychological landscape, later visionary writers were able to concentrate on the progress of the individual. Finally, an allegorical level was already present in the apocalypses, a feature that, like the mediators and dialogues and journeys divided into stages, "pre-adapted" the genre as a vehicle for exploring the interior world rather than the otherworld. As he reviews the scholarship, Vielhauer summarizes with approval the belief of U. Bousset that it is the small allegorical vision which is the germ cell of the Apocalypse; in it either a number of individual features are woven into an allegorical pattern or a number of small and separate images are set side by side. (Vielhauer 1945a 584) The process can be illustrated in the apocalypses that contain surveys of history through prophecy, through vatic ini urn ex 32 eventu. Such accounts do not -forthrightly identify the people and countries being described, but employ "a code with images, symbols and allegories,” a code which usually requires a "comprehensive interpretation” (Vielhauer 1965a 585). The importance o-f allegory increases as literal accounts are sometimes transformed into symbolic ones when Christians adopt and adapt Jewish eschatological ideas. Cut loose from Jewish doctrine of the afterlife, descriptions of heaven are spiritualized. 6 . H. Box, surveying eschatological passages in the New Testament, observes how the earlier literal accounts were transformed into spiritual ones. He acknowledges that a "detailed doctrine is implied, and that in its fully developed form it had secured a firm place in first-century Judaism.” Nevertheless It is a striking fact that nowhere in the New Testament do we find a detailed or materialistic description of the heavenly sphere such as we meet with in some of the earlier apocalyptic writings. There is a marked absence of painful literalism. The dominant ideas behind the language are essentially spiritual. It is, no doubt, largely symbolical. Nor must it be forgotten that the tendency to spiritualize the old conception is marked in the late Jewish Apocalypse of Ezra <4 Ezra), the composition of which may be dated about 100 A. 0.23 The identification by biblical scholars of 'allegorical vision” as the "germ-cell” of Jewish apocalypses—and Box's assertion that the heavens were 'spiritualizetdl* in both Christian and late Jewish apocalypses—casts some doubt on Bloomfield7* almost cavalier dismissal of the possible influence of apocalypse in fourteenth-century England, for his evaluation is based, in part, 33 on the grounds that apocalypse was not allegorical. The remainder o-f this study will attempt to demonstrate that the allegorical germ-cell o-f apocalypse continued to be a -feature cf apocalypse past the patristic period, and, in conjunction with the -features mentioned above—dialogue, the journey divided into stages, the end o-f pseudonymity and the growth o-f emphasis on the visionary—allowed for subtle and flexible depictions of the sou1-pilgrimage of the individual in crisis. CHAPTER III EARLY CHRISTIAN APOCALYPSE Apocalypse, both as a set o-f ideas and as a literary tradition, was embraced by early Christianity. U. Schneemelcher observes that "Jewish Apocalyptic lived on vigorously in Christianity and . . . the literary form of Apocalypse continued into the period of the Church.”* Many Christian apocalypses rework Jewish sources or traditions (Vielhauer 1965a 581). But Christians did not confine themselves to revising Jewish texts; they also composed their own apocalypses, borrowing the conventions of the literary tradition but substituting Christian doctrine for Jewish history and prophecy. According to Vielhauer, The thought-world and temper of Jewish Apocalyptic were shared, to a large extent, by the early Christian movement as well, especially the Palestinian and Hellenistic-Jewish Christian wing. In fact . . . it took over, the literary documents of the former, the Apocalypses, and "christianized" them by means of a rewriting of varying kinds and intensity. It took over also the literary form and produced numerous works of its own in this genre. (Vielhauer 1965a 598) This "christianizing" led to a different emphasis in content. As time passed, Schneemelcher observes, more and more "this literary form was limited in its themes to descriptions of the other world, Anti-Christ and judgement. Insistence on repentance was 34 35 necessarily also a constituent o-f these works* (Schneemelcher 751). Eventually, the changes in content will bring about a reshaping of the literary tradition. The conventions that were appropriate -for expressing the messages o-f Jewish prophets cease to be appropriate -for Christian writers who are no longer addressing the nation o-f Israel. Of the many apocalypses composed by Christians, this study will confine itself to exploring only those that meet two tests. First, they must fall into the class of the journey apocalypse, a tradition which leads directly to the otherworld journey, one of those medieval "twin offspring* referred to by Bernard McGinn. This dissertation suggests that apocalypse be considered as an influence on the tradition of allegorical dream narrative, but the second progeny of apocalypse—non-narrative prophecies and collections of prophecies, some placed within the framework of vision—can at best have played only a peripheral role. True, such prophecies, expressed in symbolism, reflect a metaphorical habit of mind. But they do not contain a cast of characters acting through time and space. Secondly, the apocalypses explored in this study must have been indisputably composed in or translated into Latin, and the whole Latin text must have survived past the patristic period. Numerous early Latin Fathers briefly quote, in Latin, lines -that appear in extant or reconstructed Greek or Aramaic apocalypses, but it is not always clear that the quotations were actually taken from a Latin 36 translation o-f the entire apocalypse. For example, some Latin quotations have been traced back to early Latin translations o-f Greek Fathers such as Origen, and there is no reason to believe that the Latin writers incorporating such -fragments into their own writing ever saw the complete apocalypse in either Greek or Latin. In any event, any hypothetical early translations have not survived to in-fluence, in their entirety, later writers. A-fter the -field has been winnowed in this -fashion, three apocalypses are le-ft: the Vision o-f Isaiah. the Visio Sancti Paul i . and the Vision o-f Ezra. There is also an account o-f a journey to the otherworld in the Acts o-f Thomas, narrated by a young murdered woman brought back to li-fe by the saint.® Finally, there is a "pseudo-apocalypse," The Shepherd o-f Hermas. which will be examined in chapter -five as a decisive illustration both o-f the shi-ft -from Jewish to Christian content and the beginning of the corresponding changes in apocalyptic conventions. To convey the typical -features of early Christian apocalypse, and to suggest how these features adumbrate allegorical narrative, this chapter will explore the oldest, the Vision of Isaiah, and the most influential, the Apocalypse of Paul. or, as it was known in Latin, the Visio Sancti Pauli. The Vision of Isaiah is an account of the rapture of Isaiah, who describes his soul's ascent through the seven heavens, a journey which culminates with a vision of both the incarnation 4 and the ascension of Christ. Composed in Greek during the first or the second century A.D. , 5 jt was incorporated in the second century into a Greek apocalypse known as The Ascension of Isaiah, which, as analysed by R. H. Charles, is a composite of three books: the Jewish Martyrolooy of Isaiah (chapters 1-3: 12 and 5: lb-14 of the Ascension) . the Christian Testament of Hezekiah (chapters 3: 13-51a), and the Christian Vision (chapters - 6 11.1) . 14 Apparently the entire composite Ascension was translated into Latin, but only small fragments survive. But even as part of a composite Ascension the integrity of the Vision was partly preserved: its beginning is marked by a heading in the Ethiopic and Slavic translations of the Greek original. Translating into English, Charles renders the Ethiopic heading as "The Vision Which Isaiah the Son of Amos Saw"; translating into Latin, he renders the Slavic as "Guam Vidit Ysaias Propheta Filius Amos."8 At, some point the Vision regained its independent existence. With an ending grafted on from the Ascension. the Vision circulated separately in a Latin translation that was based on a different Greek rescension than the source lying behind the older o Latin fragments. The Ascension of Isaiah illustrates several of the possibilities that are utilized by later writers of visions. Although this journey apocalypse is primarily a vehicle for the recording of Christian salvation history, it contains features that made it was well-suited, "pre-adapted" as I expressed it earlier, for allegorical narratives, particularly those that 38 trace the spiritual growth of the protagonist. First, the ascension depicts the journey of a nan who has much to learn, who must prepare himself, and who does prepare himself fora vision within a vision. He must go through stages, which are neatly marked off by the stages of the heavens. As he goes through these stages he is transformed both physically and spiritually. The physical stages stand ready to serve as the literal level of an allegory. Secondly, the spiritualizing of the journey is reinforced by the spiritual treatment of other aspects of the vision. For example, Isaiah will see garments that come out of a tradition in which writers, recognizing that a soul's vestments could not logically be literal, use references to clothing as metaphors for the spiritual condition of a soul. Finally, the ascension contains the seed of the idea that the characters and events in the otherworld are the analogues of characters and events in the material world, a feature that would permit the accretion of a metaphorical layer upon a literal one. Isaiah is enraptured while prophesying at the court of Hezekiah, King of Judah. He is in the presence of the King, his councillors, the princes of Israel, and forty prophets who have travelled to the court to hear him prophesy and perchance, through the laying on of hands, to gain the gift of prophecy themselves: In truth, while he was speaking in the Holy Spirit in the hearing of all, he suddenly became silent, and from that point they saw a certain one standing still before him. 39 His eyes indeed were open, his mouth however closed, But the inspiration o-f the Holy Spirit was with him. [Loquente vero eo in Spiritu Sancto in auditu omnium statim tacuit, et exinde videbant stantem quendam ante eum. Oculi autem eius erant aperti, os vero clausum, Sed inspiratio Sancti Spiritus erat cum illo. In the company o-f an angel Isaiah will see a vision not of this world but o-f a world hidden from all earthly beings6 : ( 15: Visio . . . non erat de seculo hoc. sed de abscondito omni earni). When his soul returns -from its journey, Isaiah reports that an angel took him by the hand while he was prophesying. Isaiah asks him to explain what he is, what his name is, and why he is carrying him into the heights <7:3: Quis es?q u o modo tibi nomen est? et quo [modo] ave suoer-fers? ) T h e angel's reply contains the first suggestion that the visionary is about to set out on a journey of intellectual and spiritual growth. Isaiah has to go through a period of preparation before he will be able to grasp the identity of his guide or the purpose of his errand. Isaiah, the angel explains, will come to realize who his guide is after he has been carried into heaven: When I have carried you into heaven, I will reveal to you a vision—for which I was sent—and then you will know who I am. [Quando te feram in altum, ostendam tibi visionem, pro qua missus sum ego, et tunc scies, quis sum ego. <7:4)1 But, as is so often the case in later visions, the mortal Isaiah will be denied the highest knowledge because, as a physical 40 being, he is burdened with his body. He will learn what his guide is, but . . . you do not know my name, because you will return again into your body. [. . . nomen meum nescis, Ideo quia vis iterum reverti in corpus tuum. <7: 4-5)1 Isaiah and his guide -first ascend to the -firmament, where Isaiah sees supernatural characters whose actions, while literal, are analogous to those o-f human beings. A host o-f demonic angels, each envious o-f the other, is engaged in a great struggle: I saw there a great battle of Satan and his host opposing the honored o-f God, and the one who was more eminent was envied by the other) Because as it is on earth so it is in the firmament, namely the forms of the firmament here are also on the earth. And I said to the angel: Uhat is this war and envy and battle? And answering he said to me: that is the battle of the devil, and it will not cease until He comes, whom you will see, and destroys him by the spirit of his strength. Ividi ibi proelium magnum sathanae et virtutem ejus resistentem honorantiae dei, et unus erat praestantior alio invidendo; Quia si cut est in terra tanto est in firmamento, formae enim firmamenti hie sunt in terra. Et dixi angelo: Quid est hoc bellum et invidia et proelium? Et respondens dixit mihi: istud bellum diaboli, et non quiescet donee veniet, quern vis videre, et interficiet eum spiritu virtutis ejus. <7: 9-12)1 The author of Isaiah is here incorporating an ancient idea, that there is a correspondence between heavenly beings and their actions and earthly beings and their actions. The idea can be 41 traced back to Deuteronomy 32, in which the number o-f nations corresponds to the number o-f the sons of God. It can also be found in Daniel 10, which contains references to the angels of Greece and Persia: Here the nations and their angels are not identical but stand in direct correspondence. A similar correspondence between humans on earth and the angelic host in heaven can be seen in Jgs 5:19-20. "The kings came and fought; then they fought, those kings of Chanaan, at Thaanach by the waters of Megiddo. . . . From the heavens the stars too fought; from their courses they fought against Si sera." Again in Isa 24:21 we read that Yahweh will punish "the host of heaven in the heavens and the kings of the earth on the earth." In all these passages we are dealing with a two-storey universe, where events happen on one level on earth but also on another level in the heavens. At an early stage, therefore, Jewish literature contained the idea that, as it is in heaven so is it on earth, and this idea was incorporated into early Christian apocalypse. Christian apocalypse is thus imbued with the idea of analogy. In the Vision of Isaiah, such analogies are not exploited, but the fact remains that by describing the inhabitants and events of the heavens, an author could simultaneously draw a moral applicable to the world of men. Isaiah next ascends to the first heaven, where he sees an empty throne flanked by angels singing praises. The angels on the right are of greater glory than the angels on the left, who offer their praises after those on the right and whose song was not like that of the angels on the right <7: 15: post ill os cum eis canticum eorum non erat si cut dextrorum) . Isaiah's guide 42 explains that the angels, both those on the left and those on the right, are praising God and his Son, who are in the seventh heaven. In the second heaven, Isaiah and his guide once again -find a throne and angeis to the left and right of it singing praises. This heaven and these angels are more glorious than the first heaven and its angels, but seated in the throne is a being more glorious than even the angels of the second heaven. Isaiah, in a display of his naivete, begins to worship this being but is stopped by his guide, who explains that he was sent to lead him for this very reason—to prevent him from mistakenly worshipping the angels or Thrones of any of the inferior heavens: Do not worship the angel, nor the Throne of this heaven; on account of this I was sent to instruct you, but only worship he whom I will point.out to you. [Noli adorare angelum, neque thronum istius coeli5 propter hoc missus sum instrumere te, sed tantum, quern ego dixero tibi. (7:21 )] The guide promises Isaiah that in the seventh heaven he will find a throne for himself, and garments, and a crown. These heavenly "garments" are the "spiritual bodies” with which the righteous will be invested.13 Isaiah and his guide continue to ascend, and each heaven represents a higher stage of being, one less tainted by the earth. As in the Testament of Levi. the earth's proximity is a corrupting influence. In the third heaven Isaiah again sees a throne flanked by angels, but once again the angels are more 43 glorious than those in the preceding heaven. Isaiah also observes that the memory of this world is not mentioned there <7: 24: Memoria . . . istius mundi illic non noreinabatur) . Isaiah, too, is changing as he advances through the heavens: the glory of his spirit is transfigured as he ascends <7: 25: transformabatur oloria me8 soiritus. cum ascendebam in coelum) . In reply to Isaiah's observation that nothing of the world is mentioned in the third heaven, <7: 25: de illo mundo nihil nominator hie), the angel explains that some things are left unnamed because of their "weakness* In short order the angel leads Isaiah through the fourth and fifth heavens. In each Isaiah again sees a throne flanked by angels, the angels on the right are more glorious than the angels on the left, but the being on the throne is most glorious of all. And again the superior heaven is more glorious than the inferior. The pattern is only broken with the sixth heaven, where Isaiah observes that there the angels are no longer divided into two groups. His first attempt to ascertain why leads to a mild rebuke from his guide. He addresses his guide as "lord" when he asks him what he is seeing <8: 4: Quid est ouod video, domine 44 mi?). The angel replies that he is not Isaiah/s lord but his counselor (8s 5: Non sum tibi dominus. sed consiliator) Isaiah rephrases his question and his guide explains that, because of their proximity to the seventh heaven, the dwelling place of the Lord and his Elect, the angels no longer need be arranged into two groups -flanking a throne. They are under the direct in-fluence o-f the power o-f the seventh heaven. Now Isaiah's guide goes into greater detail about his mission. He explains to Isaiah that he was sent to him so that the prophet might see the Lord o-f all the heavens and his angels and hosts 8 ( : 9). Isaiah's guide also promises that when Isaiah dies and, by the will o-f the Father, returns to the sixth heaven, he will receive his vestment, and will be the equal o-f the angels in that heaven 8 <: 14s ouando reversus -fueris per voluntatem oatris. tunc vestem tuam recioies. / EJ. tunc eris aeaualis anoelis aui sunt in sexto coelo) . But even here and now in the sixth heaven Isaiah has advanced far enough so that the power is given to him to sing praises, and his praises, and those of his guide, are like those of the inhabitants of the sixth heaven. At last the guide leads Isaiah into the seventh heaven after receiving permission from the son of God, whose name Isaiah will not be permitted to hear until he has left behind his body <9: 5: praecioiens est filius Dei. et nomen ejus non notes audire. donee de carne ex ibis). In the seventh heaven Isaiah sees Adam, Abel, Enoch, and other righteous men stripped of the garment of the 45 body and dwelling in garments o-f glory (9: 9: Exutos stol i s carnalibus et existentes in stolis excelsis). There too Isaiah is given a book to read in which is recorded the history o-f Israel and the deeds o-f other people that Isaiah does not know o-f. After Isaiah has read in the book and after his guide has further expounded upon the significance of the garments, thrones, and crowns that Isaiah sees stored up in heaven, Isaiah at last is granted a vision of Christ. He sees a being of surpassing glory who is being worshipped and praised by Adam, Abel, Seth, and all the other righteous. The angels, too, draw near to worship and praise this being, and Isaiah likewise sings his praises and finds once again that his voice resembles that of the angels <9: 28: vox erat sicut i1lorum) . Indeed, his whole being has been transformed, and he has become like the angels of the seventh heaven <9: 30: transfiouravi me iterum et fui sicut anoeli). His guide at last instructs him that it is time to worship and sing and that he is seeing the lord of all glory <9: 31, 32: Hunc adora et canta: Iste est dominus omnium oloriarum. ouas vidisti). But while Isaiah has been transfigured and is like one of the angels, he has not been transformed to resemble one of the righteous, the Old Testament patriarchs and prophets who are more honored than even the angels. After seeing the Lord Christ, Isaiah has a vision of the Holy Spirit, who comes to stand on the left hand of Christ. The righteous draw near to worship and 46 praise the Holy Spirit, and Isaiah likewise praises Him. Finally, Isaiah becomes aware o-f the presence o-f God the Father. However,his imperfections prevent him from a sustained vision of the deity. His sight wavers, and, unlike the righteous, he cannot keep God'steadily in view: And after this indeed another indescribable and ineffable glory was revealed, but even as much as the eyes of my spirit (were! uncovered, I was not able to see, neither [could] the angel who was leading me, nor all the angels whom I had seen worshipping the lord. But 1 saw only the righteous in great honor beholding the glory. [Et post haec alia quidem inenarrabi1 is et ineffabilis revelabatur gloria, quam ego apertis oculismei spiritus non poteram videre, nec qui me ducebat angelus, neque omnes angeli, quos videram adorantes dominum. Nisi tantummodo justos vidi in gloria magna aspicientes gloriam. <9: 37-38)] However, even though Isaiah is incapable of beholding the glory of God the Father <10: 12, eoo oloriam non poteram videre). he is able to hear his words. The Father commands Christ to descend to the world and as he does so to successively take on the form of the angels in the five lower heavens, the angels in the firmament, and the angels in the infernal region <10: 8-9). No one will recognize him, neither the angels nor the princes of the world. Once he reaches the world, he will judge its Prince and his angels and the earth controlled by him, for they have denied God and said, "We are and there is no one without usa <10: 13: Ideo ouia neoaverunt me et dixerunt: Nos sumus et sine nobis nemo 15 est). After the judgment, Christ will ascend in great glory to 4? sit at the right hand o-f God, but he will not be transformed to prevent the angels in each heaven along the wax from recognizing him <10: 12, 14: judicabis princioem ill ius. secul i et anoelos ejus et mundi rectores: Postea vero non transfiourabis te per coelos in maona oloria aseendens et sedebis a dextris meis) . Having heard the words of God, Isaiah now observes the Incarnation acted out as Christ descends. In the sixth heaven he is recognized and praised, for he has not yet begun the transformation which will hide his divinity, but as he passes successively through the next five heavens he takes the form of the angels in each. Indeed, he takes the form of the lesser angels in each heaven, those to the left of the throne.*^ His transformation is so complete that the gate-keepers of the third, second, and first heavens and the guardians of the firmament demand pass-words from him before they will let him enter their respective domains. Only when he at last transforms himself into the likeness of one of the angels of the turbulent—and presumably more lawless—earthly atmosphere <10: 30: anoelos. oui erant in hoc aere) is he asked to give no pass-word. The Vision of Isaiah originally ended with the first 1ine of the eleventh chapter of the Ascension of Isaiah: dixit mihi anoelus: Intel 1ioe. Ysaias f i 1i Amos: in hoc missus sum a deo omnia tibi ostendere. But the Latin translation of the Vision incorporates Isaiah's account of Jesus's triumphant ascension that is found in eighteen verses <11: 23-40) of the Ascension. 48 Having resumed his glorious shape, Jesus ascends to the ■firmament, where he is recognized and worshipped by angels chagrined at their failure to recognize him earlier. With the praise increasing as he ascends, Jesus progresses through the first, second, third, fourth, and fifth heavens. The inhabitants of each heaven express the same chagrin as the angels of the firmament. At last he ascends to the seventh heaven, where "cantaverunt ei omnes justi et omnes anoeli et omnes virtutes. quas non potui videre* <11t 32). However, sitting to the left of Jesus is an anoeluls] mirabiltis] who tells Isaiah that he has seen all that is appropriate at this time: . . . It is sufficient for you, Isaiah, for you have seen what no one else born of flesh has seen, what no eye has seen, nor ear heard, what has not entered into the heart of man: how much God has prepared Himself for all the faithful ones. . . . Return into your garment, until the time of your days Cis fulfilled] and then you will come here. [. . . Sufficit tibi Ysaia; vidisti enim, quod nemo alius vidit carnis filius, quod nec oculus vidit, nec auris audivit, nec in cor hominis ascend it.* quanta praeparavit deus omnibus diligentibus se. . . . Revertere in stolam tuam, donee tempus dierum tuorum adimpleatur et tunc venies hue. <11:34-35)3 The visionary, venerated prophet though he is, has imperfections; and, even though he reaches the seventh heaven, he is held back by these shortcomings. He sees Christ and the Holy Spirit but cannot keep God the Father within his vision. And, still burdened with the garment of the body, he must be sent back because his days are not yet at an end. He has not and cannot reach perfection in his present state. 49 But these -flaws are integral to the organization o-f the narrative. First o-f all, Isaiah/s ignorance prompts him to ask questions that provide an excuse -for the writer to place doctrine in the mouth of the guide.^ Secondly, the narrator's imperfections are a useful strategy for explaining why the prophet comes back to share the revelation. In a sense, then, the imperfections of the narrator are mere hooks upon which to hang a vision. But Isaiah's imperfections provide a glimpse at the future of apocalypse. Isaiah is not a static character. He progresses in the course of the vision, both literally and figuratively, in the face of the guide's answers, rebukes, and corrections. His imperfections are not the subject of his own vision, which is, of course, mainly an explication of the mystery of the Incarnation. But he provides a model for the type of narrator a writer would need to create for an allegorical narrative devoted to tracing spiritual growth in the guise of a visionary journey. Like the putative visionary of the Vision of Isaiah, the narrator of the Apocalypse of Paul glimpses the celestial regions, but, in addition, he sees the realms of torment. The best known of the apocalypses, this vision was originally composed in Greek at the end of the fourth or the beginning of the fifth century A. D.20 But the Greek version survives only in a summary. The fullest, and oldest, witness to the Apocalypse of Paul is the Long Latin translation, the Visio Sancti Pauli 50 (Duensing 755). The widespread circulation of this apocalypse is demonstrated by the number of manuscripts of several different Latin rescensions, both long and short.“91 The apocalypse was inspired by 11 Corinthians 12: 1 -4 ,^ for it purports to be an account of the revelations the third heaven . . . he was caught up into paradise and heard secret words which it is not lawful for men to utter" (ANT 526\ AA 11: raotum huiusmodi usoue ad tercium caelum . . . ouoniam raptus est in oaradisum et audiuit archana uerba oue non1 icet hominibus loqui . . .). This elaborate tour of the otherworld, like Isaiah's tour of the seven heavens, contains numerous elements that would be useful to a writer composing an internal journey or psychological allegory. The very act of making visible that which is not normally visible required an allegorical attitude, a fact which will later be articulated in the Dialogues of Gregory the Great, who realizes that he is only suggesting, as nearly as possible, what the otherworld is like by comparison or analogy with earthly objects and sensations (see below, Chapter VI). In addition to the allegory that is integral to the description of the otherworld, this vision contains allegory in the form of symbolic pictures, and personification, if not intended by the author, was at least read into the vision by later readers. Allegory is a slippery term which encompasses many literary 51 techniques. As Elizabeth Salter and Derek Pearsall have observed with reference to medieval literature: A vast number of medieval works are usually described as 'allegorical' : /allegory/ has to serve as a portmanteau word for a range of compositions which require some degree of interpretation from the reader, and invite, through their fictions, an inner commentary on the events narrated. Often those are the only common factors. . . . (Salter and Pearsall 9) Attempting to identify the allegorical modes present in Piers Plowman, whose multiplicity of form challenges classification, Salter and Pearsall delineate five allegorical "modes": personification, dramatic, diagrammatic, non-visual allegory, and allegory through exempla (Salter and Pearsall 9-19). Of these, diagrammatic allegory and a kind of proto-personification allegory are present in the Visio Sancti Pauli. In diagrammatic allegory objects such as buildings and trees are presented as if they were the "stiffly constructed and carefully labeled" drawings in manuscripts (Salter and Pearsall 14). Such "didactic illustrations" were "static" and "formalized," but also "precise" (Salter and Pearsall 15). Such a definition fits the description of the third heaven, where Paul sees trees filled with fruit growing on the banks of a river that flows with milk and honey: And trees full of fruit were planted on the bank of that river; twelve times a year each tree bore various and diverse fruits. . . . From root to top, the ten thousand layers of boughs were full of fruit upon the branches. And the vineyards had ten thousand bushes; and on each vine were ten thousand tendrils, and on all the tendrils were ten thousand clusters. And each tree bore thousands of fruit, (translation mine) 52 [Et erant in litore illius fluminis arbores plantate plene fructibus; unaqueque arbor erat afferens fructus duodecies in annum uarios et diuersos . . . Erant plene a radice usque ad summum ordines decern milia ramorum fructuum super ramos. Vi nee autem uites habebant .X. milia arbusta; in singulis autem uitibus .X. milia butriones, et .X. milia racemi in singulis butrionibus; singule autem arbores ferebant mi 1 ia -fructuum.] Paul asks his guide why each tree bears fruit in such abundance, and the angel gives a reply that transforms the tree into a diagrammatic representation of goodness and its reward. The trees produce abundant fruit because "the Lord God of his bounty giveth his gifts in abundance unto the worthy; for they also of their own will afflicted themselves when they were in the world, doing all things for his holy name's sake* i1<1i> proprio uoto adf1icx Such diagrammatic allegory is present only rarely in the Visio. Proto-personifications, however, play a major role. In personification allegory, "abstract qualities or faculties are given human form, and display their natures or re-enact some experience by means of a typical human activity—a debate, a fight, a feast, a trial, a journey” "beneath the firmament of the heaven" forgetfulness which deceiveth and draweth unto itself the hearts of men, and the spirit of slander and the spirit of fornication and the spirit of wrath and the spirit of insolence, and there were the princes of wickedness. Cobliuio que fall it et deducit ad se corda hominum, et spiritus detraccionis et spiritus Proto-personifications such as these challenge the sinful soul when he is escorted to judgment by his guardian angel: Uhen . . . they were come unto the principalities, and it would now go to enter into heaven, one burden (labour, suffering) was laid upon it after another: error and forgetfulness and whispering met it, and the spirit of fornication and the rest of the powers, and said unto it: Uhither goest thou, wretched soul, and darest to run forward into heaven? Stay, that we may see whether we have property of ours in thee, for we see not with thee an holy helper. (ANT 533) [Cum . . . peruenissent ad potestatem, cum iam ingredi celum abiret, labor impositus est ei super alium laborem; (error et) obliuio et susurracio obuiauerunt earn, et spiritus fornicacionis et relique potestates, et dicebant ei: Obi perges, misera anima, et audes praecurrere in celo? sustine, ut uideamus si abeemus in te peculiaria nostra, quia non uidemus tibi sanctum adiutorem. (AA 18)1 The sinful soul is found to belong to the evil powers and spirits, and the Lord orders him handed over for punishment. 54 Just as the sinful qualities take the form o-f proto- person i-fi cat ions, so too the deeds o-f a man take the shape of witnesses -for or against him. When Paul asks "to see the souls o-f the righteous and o-f the sinners as they depart out o-f the world* (ANT 530; AA uidere animas iustorum et peccatorum exeuntes de mundo) . the angel instructs him to look down -from heaven. Below he sees the world enveloped by a -fire which the angel describes as "the unrighteousness that is mingled by the princes of sinners" (ANT 530; AA 16: iniusticia obmixta a orincioibus peccatorum) . Glancing downward once again, Paul reports, . . . I looked and saw a certain man about to die; and the angel said to me: He whom thou seest is righteous. And again I looked and saw all his works that he had done -for the name o-f God, and all his desires which he remembered and which he remembered not, all o-f them stood before his face in the hour of necessity. (ANT 530-31) [inspexi et uidi q Similarly, an ungodly sinner who had embraced the things of this world is confronted by personifications of his sinfulness and his wicked deeds. the soul of a wicked man . . . hath provoked the Lord day and night, saying: I know nought else in this world, I will eat and drink and enjoy the things that are in the world. For who is he that hath gone down into hell and come up and told us that there is a judgment there? And again I looked and saw all 55 the despising o-f the sinner, and all that he did, and they stood together be-fore him in the hour of necessity. (ANT 532) [animam impi i . . . inritauit dominum die hac [sic] nocte dicens: Nichil aliut noui in hoc mundo, manduco et bibo et fruor que sunt in mundo. Quis enim est qui descendit ad inferos et ascendens denunciauit nobis quia est iudicium illic? Et iterum respexi et uidi omnem contemptum peccatoris et omnia que egit, et in unum asteterunt ante eum in hora necessitatis. . . . (AA 17-18)] Perhaps when the Apocalypse of Paul was composed all of these figures were viewed as demons like those in the Testament of Reuben. But by the eighth century some of these figures had been recast into non-demonic personifications in the Vision of a Monk at Denlock. a revelation clearly indebted to the Visio Sancti Pauli that was recorded by St. Boniface in 716 shortly after he heard the vision narrated at first-hand by the visionary 26 himself. As in the Visio Sancti. the visionary, once the "veil of the flesh” has been removed from his eyes, is able to see the entire world in a glance, for the "whole universe seemed to be brought together before his eyes so that he saw in one view all parts of the earth and all seas and peoples" (Kylie 25). In the Visio Sancti Pauli. Paul, from his vantage point in the third heaven, "looked down from heaven upon the earth and beheld the whole world, and it was as nothing in my sight; and I saw the children of men as though they were nought . . , (ANT 530).^ In addition, the earth in the Visio Sancti Pauli was surrounded by flames. So, too, the monk of Uenlock, from high above the earth, sees the world enveloped and threatened by a ball of fire, which 56 is only checked when an angel makes the sign of the cross. Finally, just as in the Visio Sancti Pauli. after the visionary is granted this all-encompassing view of the world, he witnesses the arrival of souls that had recently left their bodies. As in the Visio. the arrival of these souls precipitates a struggle between good and evil spirits: "He said also that there was a crowd of evil spirits and a glorious choir of the higher angels. And he said that the wretched spirits and the holy angels had a violent dispute concerning the souls that had come forth from their bodies, the demons bringing charges against them and aggravating the burden of their sins, the angels lightening the burden and making excuses for them" (Kylie26). But, in addition to witnessing the arraignments of others, the visionary monk, unlike Paul, is himself arraigned. And the soul's offenses are handled at much greater length in a scene that clearly goes beyond the literal. The witnesses against the visionary are in fact personifications, for the visionary is confronted both by sinful actions and by vicious qualities, each of which accuses the visionary "as if in person": He heard all his own sins, which he had committed from his youth on and had failed to confess or had forgotten or had not recognized as sins, crying out against him, each in its own voice, and accusing him grievously. Each vice came forward as if in person, one saying: "1 am your greed, by which you have most often desired things unlawful and contrary to the commands of God.” Another said: "I am vainglory, by which you have boastfully put yourself forward among men." Another: "I am falsehood, whereby you have lied and sinned." Another: "I am the idle word you spoke in vain." Another: "I am sight, by which you have sinned by 5 ? looking upon -forbidden things." Another: I am stubbornness and disobedience, whereby you have -failed to obey your spiritual superiors." Another: "I am sluggishness and neglect in sacred studies." Another: "1 am the wandering thoughts and useless notions in which you have indulged too much both in church and elsewhere." Another: "I am drowsiness, by which you were overcome so that you were late to make your confession to God." Another: "I am the idle errand." Another: "1 am negligence and carelessness, which have made you indifferent to the study of theology," and so forth. The monk is thus confronted with personifications that represent "[elverything he had done in all the days of his life and had neglected to confess and many which he had not known to be sinful" and these personifications, which "now shouted at him in terrifying words" are not to be confused with evil spirits or malevolent angels. Such evil spirits are there, but they are clearly distinct from the personifications of sin and viciousness. Instead, they can be likened to prosecutors who marshall evidence against the accused: "In the same way the evil spirits, chiming in with the vices, accusing and bearing witness, naming the very times and places, brought proofs of his evil deeds" 27). The defense, however, has not yet presented its case. Again personification is used, as the monk's virtues and good deeds testify on his behalf: "On the other hand," he said, "the poor little virtues which I had displayed unworthily and imperfectly spoke out in my defense." One said: / I am obedience, which he has shown to his spiritual superiors.' And one: 'I am fasting, whereby he has chastened his body against carnal desire.' Another: 'I am true prayer, which he has uttered in the sight of God.' Another: 'I am the service of the weak, which he has shown by kindness to the sick.' Another: 'I am the psalm, which he chanted before God to atone for an idle word.' And so each virtue cried out for me in excuse for the corresponding sin" Csic quotation marks]. Just as the personifications of the vices are not to be confused with the evil spirits, so too the personifications of virtues must be distinguished from angelic spirits. Such spirits are present, but, just as the evil spirits lead the prosecution, so the angelic spirits lead the defense: "And those angelic spirits in their boundless love defended and supported me, while the virtues, greatly magnified as they were, seemed to me far greater and more excellent than could ever have been practiced by my own strength" (Kylie 27). The writer of the Visio Sancti Pauli reflected a belief in literal spirits which were responsible for provoking misbehavior. But, whatever the intention of the author of the Visio. these spirits could be, and were, interpreted as figurative representations. Thus, in the Vision of the Monk of Uenlock a bad soul is confronted by the personifications of his wicked 59 qualities and deeds, which are marshalled by a second—and literal—set of characters, the evil angels. The problem of portraying a spirit world leads to the mingling of characters of different existential status, and the first hint of this mix is present in the Visio Sancti Pauli. Both diagrammatic and personification allegory suit our traditional sense of the allegorical and are easily recognized as such. However, there is another way in which this vision, indeed all otherworld visions, is suited for the depiction of allegorical journeys. The world of the vision writers was a world of analogy. Events on earth had their counterparts in heaven. Earth was in many ways but a model of heaven. In the Vi si on of Isa iah. the discord in the heavens was reflected in turmoil on the earth. Similarly, in the Visio Sancti Pauli. the worship of God in the seventh heaven is conducted in a fashion analogous to the worship of God on earth: David shall sing praises before him in the seventh heaven: and as it is done in the heavens, so likewise is it below: for without David it is not lawful to offer a sacrifice unto God: but it must needs be that David sing praises at the hour of the offering of the body and blood of Christ: as it is performed in heaven, so also is it upon earth. [Dauid psallet ante eum in vii^ 0 celo, et sicut fiunt in celis, ita et inferius similiter, quia non licet sine Dauid ostiam offerre deo set necesse est ut psallet Dauid in hora oblacionis corporis et sanguinis Christi: quemadmodum in celis proficitur, ita et iii terra. But there is a second way in which the analogical habit of mind is given rein in the Visio. The desire for justice in the 60 visions manifests itself in attempts to establish a fitting correspondence between punishment for crimes and rewards for good deeds. Sometimes such a principle leads to the depiction of souls re-enacting in the spirit world the equivalent of crimes committed in the material world. And sometimes—frequently simultaneously—when the offense is an interior one, such as indulging in pride, the punishment in the otherworld is designed to make visible the interior state of the sinner. Thus the punishments frequently reify the falseness of outward piety and permit the reader to read the spiritual state of the sinner through the outward sign of an appropriate punishment. The principle of justice made visible thus sometimes takes the form of punishments that are physical metaphors for spiritual offenses. As the subject matter of the visions, justice encourages metaphor.28 This justice made visible is present in much of the Visio Sancti Pauli. where frequently, though not always, the author depicts punishments or rewards that correspond fittingly to the behavior of the soul before it was separated from the body. Ulitness the fate of a sinful soul who "was brought by two angels, weeping and saying: Have mercy on me, thou righteous God, 0 God the judge* "trusted not in the Lord that they could have him for their helper" (ANT 543; AA 29: Aby(s>sus mensuram non habet: non sperauerunt in domino ouod possunt abere eum adiutorem) . A soul thrown into the abyss will not cease falling even after five 62 hundred years. Those who must pay their *due penalty* or their *own penalty* (ANT 544, 545, 544; AA 30, 31, 32: oenam istam: prooriam enam) -for their particular crime include the impious, magicians, fornicators and adulterers, promiscuous girls, fastbreakers, heathens, those who commit infanticide, and false ascetics. The impious, those who ‘mocked at the word of God in the church, not attending thereto, but as it were making nought of God and of his angels," are, fittingly enough, condemned to gnaw their tongues. (ANT 544} AA 31: Hi i sunt oui detraunt in aecclesia uerbo dei. non indendentes eo. sed quasi nihil facientes dominum et aoelos eius: ideo nunc 544} AA 31: Hi i sunt malefici qui oresti terunt uiris ac mulieribus maleficia maoica et non inuenerunt reouiescere eos usque dum morirentur). Fornicators and adulterers, who used their appearance as lures, are described in one place as having a "very black countenance” and in another place as hanging from their eyebrows and hair (ANT 544; AA 31: uultu nioro ualde) Promiscuous girls are dressed in black clothing and led away with red-hot chains wrapped around their heads or necks. Fastbreakers with parched tongues are suspended over water in sight of fruit 63 which they are not permitted to eat. Heathens "that gave alms and knew not the Lord God" are, on the one hand, "clad in white (bright) apparel" but are blind and dwell in a pit (ANT 545; AA 32: indutos uestimenta clara . . . oui fecerunt elemosinas. et doroinum deum non coonouerunt) . Those who committed infanticide by throwing aside their children to be "food unto dogs and to be trampled by swine" are themselves placed on a "spit o-f fire," where they are torn to pieces by wild animals and are not permitted to beg the Lord for mercy (ANT 545; AA 32, 33: oboliscum ioneum . . . In escam canibus et in conculcationem porcis). The false ascetics, who had counterfeited renunciation of the world by adopting the dress of holy men, are here "clad in rags full of pitch and brimstone of fire." Furthermore, there are "dragons twined" around the necks, shoulders, and feet of these men and women who in life had been trapped by the "snares of the world" (ANT 546; AA 33: indutos pannis oicem plenis et sulforem ionis. et erant drachones circumuoluti col1 is eorum et Oft umeris et pedibus . . . inpedimenta mundi). Even when sinners are assigned to the same general type of punishment, the visionary tries to divide the sinners into different groups and vary the torment in some appropriate way. At one point the visionary sees a "river of fire burning with heat, and in it was a multitude of men and women sunk up to the knees, and other men up to the navel; others also up to the lips and others up to the hair* (ANT 542; AA 28: fluuium ion is 64 feruentem. et inoressus mul t i tudo uirorum et mul ierum dimersus usoue ad ienua et alios uiros usoue ad umbiculum [sic]. alios enim usque ad 1abia. alios autem usaue ad capi11 os) . Paul wishes to know who these men and women are, and the guide first replies that those beside the f ir e ^ are neither hot nor cold, -for the/ were not found either in the number of the righteous or in the number of the wicked; for the/ passed the time of their life upon earth, spending some da/s in prayer, but other da/s in sins and fornications, until their death. (ANT 542) [Neque calidi neque frigidi sunt, quia neque in numero iustorum inuenti sunt neque in numero impiorum. Isti enim inpenderunt tempos uite suae in terris dies aliquos facientes in oracionibus, alios uero dies in peccatis et fornicacionibus usque ad mortem. (AA 28)3 Then the souls within the fiery river are further divided. In response to a question from Paul, the guide explains that the souls mired up to their knees in the fiery river "are they which when they are come out of the church occupy themselves in disputing with idle (alien) talk* (ANT 542). "CTlhese that are sunk up to the navel,* the angel continues, "have received the body and blood of Christ" but afterwards have fornicated and persisted in sin until their dying day (ANT 542). The souls immersed up to the lips engaged in slander even in church (ANT 542). Finally, the souls "sunk up to the eyebrows are they that beckon one to another, and privily devise evil against their neighbours' (AA 542). Et interrogaui et dixi: Qui sunt hii, domine, dimersi usque ad ienua in igne: Respondens dixit mihi: Hi sunt qui cum exierint de aecclesia inmitunt se in sermonibus alienis disceptare. Histi uero qui dimers! sunt usque ad umbibulum, hi sunt qui cum sumpserunt corpus et sanguinem Christi eunt et fornicant et non cessauerunt a peccatis suis usque quo morerentur. Dimersi autem usque ad labia hi sunt detractores alterutrum conuenientes in aecclesiam dei; usque ad superlicia uero dimersi hii sunt qui innuunt sibi, malignitatem insidjantur. Thus, like Dante who later imitated him, the writer o-f the Apocalypse o-f Paul was keenly interested in correspondences— between deeds and clothing and physical condition and punishment. And sometimes the correspondences are pushed to the point where clothing or physical condition or punishment become the signs o-f the spiritual state of the soul. In addition to the metaphorical possibilities provided in the attempt to convey the idea of justice, this vision again depicts a journey divided into stages which can be used to depict both literal as well as spiritual progress. The otherworld is divided into distinct realms, and Paul's passage from one region tothe next is more than a physical one. As in the Vision of Isaiah. the narrator plays the role of an ignorant visionary whose questions motivate the progress of the vision by providing hooks upon which the author can hang his message, which is articulated by the angelic guide. Paul peppers his guide with questions, asking him to identify angels and explain their roles, to explain the fate of souls after death, to explain features of the heavenly city and the status of its inhabitants. The visionary/s searching ignorance is even at one point mildly rebuked by the guide. Uhen the visionary, after posing a series 66 of questions, asks what ‘Alleluia" is, the angel declares, "Thou dost examine and inquire o-f all things" (ANT 541; AA 27: Scrutaris et oueris in homnibus) . Clearly the dialogue is not an exchange between equals, but this unequal dialogue helps mark Paul's spiritual progress. For as part of this exchange between angelic teacher and visionary pupil, the guide is careful to test Paul to see whether he is ready for the next stage by asking him a question before introducing the next lesson. For example, after the visionary witnesses the judging of a righteous man, his guide asks him whether he has "believed and known that whatsoever every one of you hath done, he beholdeth it at the hour of his necessity?" after which the angel again asks the visionary whether he has grasped what has occurred. Only after Paul replies yes does the angel lead him on to the third heaven He asks the visionary if he understands that he is moving on to a new realm (AA 28: Intelliois quod hinc eas?). When the visionary answers that he does, the guide explains what they will see next. Again, before Paul can pass from the regions of torment to Paradise, his guide asks him if he has "seen all things" (ANT 67 549; AA 37: Vidisti aec omnia) . Such exchanges, brief as they are, seem to suggest that the visionary must pass through stages of understanding. This element is developed in later visions through the motif of repeated visions. The earlier visions prepare the visionary to receive the ultimate vision. The second way in which the impression is conveyed that an individual may pass through stages depends on the depiction of the inhabitants of the otherworld, who, as we have seen, are assigned to particular punishments or rewards according to the nature and degree of their sinfulness or goodness. Now in later visions the souls are likewise divided. Some are damned without hope, but for others there is a clear indication that, after enduring a sequence of punishment, they will be purified. In the Visio. too, some men are irrevocably damned. Slanderers, for example, are permanently confined to their peculiar punishment, fornicators to theirs. But the idea of a final reckoning permitted an interim period during which, even in such an early work as the Visio. the idea was beginning to develop that some souls could undergo purgation.33 Some souls are merely biding time until the day of judgment when they will receive their eternal reward or punishment. The narrator describes a "land of promise" wherein the "souls . . . of the righteous" must wait for a time iustorum) . But others must be undergo a process of purification. Paul's guide explains that not every soul can immediately enter 68 the city of God: if any be a fornicator or ungodly, and turn and repent and bear fruits meet for repentance, first when he cometh out of the body he is brought and worshippeth God, and then by the commandment of the Lord he is delivered unto Michael the angel, and he washeth him in the lake Acherusa and so bringeth him in to the city of Christ with them that have done no sin. [si quis est fornicator et impius, et conversus penituerit et fecerit fructum dignum penitenciae, primum quidem cum exierit de corpore, ducitur et adorat deum et inde iussu domini traditur Michaelo et baptizat eum in aceriosium lacum; sic inducit eum in ciuitatem Christi iusta eos qui nihil peccauerunt. (AA 23)] Another passage that suggests a dynamic otherworld, one in which souls learn and change, is that of a description of the grove before the "city of Christ" Among these trees, which were "great and high" and leafy but whichbear no fruit, await men doing penance for their pride who, at thefinal reckoning, will be permitted to enter the city because of God's goodness and because the righteous will pray on their behalf Even some descriptions of the otherworld that were clearly not intended to imply change and growth are adapted for that function in later visions. For example, the heavenly city is constructed of a series of concentric walls. The nearer one approaches to the center of the city, the more righteous the inhabitants: The second [wall] is better than the firs t, and likewise the third than the second; for one excelleth the other even unto the twelfth wall. And I said: Wherefore, Lord, doth one excel another in glory? show me. And the angel answered and said unto me: All they 69 that have in them even a little slandering or envy or pride, somewhat is taken away -from his glory, even if he be in the city of Christ. CEst secundus melior primo et similiter tercius secundo, quia unus unum praecedit usque ad .XII.mum murum. Et dixi: Obquare, domine, unus alium praecedit in gloriam, significa mihi. Et respondens angelus dixit mihii Omnes qui abent in se uel modi cam detractionem aut zelum aut superbiam, euacuatur aliquid de gloria ipsius etiam There is no hint in this passage that inhabitants of the outer regions of the city will ever progress to the center or even closer to it. Yet later writers seemed to view the series of walls as an invitation to portray stages of growth and purification. After spending an appropriate time within a given circle, a soul would progress to the next stage. Even though the Visio Sancti Pauli contains much allegory or near-allegory, such spiritualizing of the otherworld journey did not prevent the author from simultaneously engaging in social criticism. The two do not seem to be incompatible. After detailing the punishments of various laymen immersed in the river of fire, the visionary looks back at the fiery flood and describes the punishments of four officials of the church, thus inaugurating in the Ulest a practice that would become more and more important in later visions: the use of the visions not to reveal apocalyptic wisdom but as vehicles for criticism of corruption in the church. The visionary sees "a priest who fulfilled not well his ministry, for when he was eating and drinking and whoring he offered the sacrifice unto the Lord at 70 his holy altar* (ANT 543; AA 29-30: presbyter fuit oui non consuramaui t ministeriuro suum bene: cum erat manducans et bibens et fornicans. offerebat hostiam domino ad sanctum altare eius) . This old man is being strangled by the angel guardians of Tartarus, who simultaneously pierce the sinner with something very much 1 ike a pitchfork Also appropriately punished is a third soul who is similarly immersed to his knees in the river of fire. His out-stretched hands are bloody, and worms are crawling out of his mouth and nostrils. This soul was "a deacon, who devoured the offerings and committed fornication and did not do right in the sight of 71 God" fornicabatur et rectum non -fecit in conspectu dei). A fourth soul, also immersed to the knees, was a reader who did not himself obey the Lord's commandments. Appropriately the soul's lips and tongue are lacerated by an ange) who wields "a great razor, red-hot* In addition to singling out corrupt churchmen, the visionary of course portrays the punishments for selected sins committed by laymen. Mentioned above were magicians, the impious who must gnaw on their own tongues, fornicators and adulterers, promiscuous girls, fastbreakers doomed to perpetual hunger and thirst, the heathen, those who commit infanticide, and the false religious ascetics. Also excoriated are moneylenders or usurers, schismatics, offenders against orphans and widows and the poor, and homosexuals, each of whom must also pay a "due penalty" or his "own penalty." The visionary journey of Paul has provided the author an excuse both for conveying information about the otherworld and for criticizing contemporary practices, including those of erring church leaders. But there were certain limits on what could be conveyed in a narrative like the Visio Sancti Pauli because the nature of the narrator prevented the apocalypse from taking certain directions. Paul, for all his questions, is a pseudonymous narrator who is a saint. He does not receive the vision for his own good, and while it may play a role in 72 illuminating him, it plays no role in re-forming him. The author provides two reasons that explain why Paul is the recipient of a vision. First, he is to carry a message back to the land of the living. True, he is forbidden to tell of what he has seen and heard in the third heaven; but he is explicitly instructed to inform the living about the other regions of the otherworld. Secondly, he is rapt because of the request of the righteous, who cannot wait for Paul's death, though it is imminent, to meet and acclaim him. While he is journeying through Paradise, he is met by Mary and two hundred angels: And she [Mary] came near and saluted me, and said: Hail, Paul, dearly beloved of God and angels and men. For all the saints have besought my son Jesus who is my Lord, that thou shouldest come here in the body that they might see thee before thou didst depart out of the world. And the Lord said to them: Wait and be ye patient: yet a little while, and ye shall see him, and he shall be with you for ever. And again they all with one accord said unto him: Grieve us not, for we desire to see him while he is in the flesh, for by him hath they name been greatly glorified in the world, and we have seen that he hath excelled [Veniens autem iuxta salutauit me et dixit: Aue, Paule, dilectissime dei et angelorum et hominum. Omnes enim sancti precati sunt filium meum Ihesum qui est dominus meus, ut uenires hie in corpore ut uiderent te priusquam exires de saeculo: et dixit eis dominus: Sustinete et pacienter agite; adhuc modicum et uidebitis eum et erit in aeternum uobiscum: et iterum communiter omnes dixerunt ei: Ne contristes nos; uolumnus eum uidere enim in came constitutum, per hunc enim glorificatum est nomen tuum in saeculo ualde, et uidimus quia omnia opera substullit mi norum siue maiorum. (AA 38)] Among the many righteous who greet Paul are numerous heroes of 73 the Old Testament, including the twelve patriachs, who echo Marx, praising God, because he "hath not grieved us, that we might see thee xet being in the body, before thou departedst out of the world" corpore constitutum priusquam exires de mundo) . Each in turn comes forward to praise Paul. These explanations for Paul's rapture into the otherworld are fairly mechanical ones. This fact suggests that, even though the vision contains numerous features that would seem to encourage an allegorical narrative of a spiritual journey, in the final analysis Paul is only at the center of the vision insofar as he is needed to give the author the opportunity to put doctrine into the mouth of his guide. For a visionary to truly become the center of his or her own vision, a different kind of narrator is needed. And such a new narrator appears once the writers of otherworld visions no longer feel compelled to place their accounts in the mouths of pseudonymous narrators. The next chapter will therefore examine the change in the conditions that produced visions, a change that permitted the rise of the voice of an author in crisis and that allowed authors to still convey doctrine but to widen and personalize the range of problems that could be explored through vision. CHAPTER IV THE SHIFT FROM PSEUDONYMITY The apocalypse was only one o-f several genres that provided enduring narrative patterns for early Christian writers. Numerous examples survive of the apocryphal and pseudepigraphic equivalents o-f canonical acts, gospels, and letters, many o-f which were read not only during the patristic period but also throughout the the Middle Ages. The popularity of such literature can be inferred, as U. Schneemelcher observes, from the large number of translations from Greek into Latin that proliferated not only in the first centuries of the Church but also during the Middle Ages. In addition to the evidence of translation, Schneemelcher points to two further signs of the popularity of such apocrypha: the composing of texts that "develop and rearrange" previous apocrypha and the signs of "after-effect and stimulus" in "new literary creations or in monuments of art."* But however well-known all such apocrypha were during the Middle Ages, it was the apocalypses that had a special appeal to medieval readers. As Schneemelcher observes, "tiln particular the apocalypses appear to have been read; at all events their influence can be. traced." In Italy, for example, the tradition of apocalypse influences, through the Visio Sancti Pauli. the depiction of the journey to the otherworld in Dante's 74 75 Commedia (Schneemelcher 65). This one apocalypse, the Visio Sancti Pauli« can be used to illustrate all three types o-f evidence that Schneemelcher relies on to gauge the popularity o-f apocrypha in the West. The Visio Sancti Pauli was repeatedly translated into Latin and repeatedly reworked. The Latin redactions were -further translated into various vernaculars, and development and rearrangement likewise occurred in the vernaculars. In England, -for example, its popularity is dramatically apparent when one considers Gordon Hall Gerould's observation that the only saint's legend written in English that has come down to us -from the twel-fth century is a prose translation o-f Paul's vision o-f hell. In the following century the Vision was twice rendered into English, this time into verse in two completely independent translations. One omits much of the narrative, retaining only the description of the pains of hell, which is put into the mouth of the soul of a dead man who has returned from the otherworld. The second, found in one MS of the South-Enolish Legendary (Laud 108), is a paraphrase of one of the most popular of the Latin redactions of the vision (Gerould 222). The following century saw the composition of yet another English verse version of the Vision. this one a more faithful translation of the same Latin redaction that was the source of the paraphrase in the Laud MS of the South-Enolish Legendary (Gerould 229). This particular Latin version was again translated into English around the year 1426 by the chaplain John 76 Audelay (Gerould 254-55). In addition to reworkings and direct translations of the Vision of Paul, its "after-effect and stimulus" is evident in the creation of new literary works. Various toooi from the vision are adopted into other visions. For example, the eleventh- century Vision of Leofric. Earl of Mercia, borrows the "bridge of souls* that serves as a test in the Vision of Paul (Gerould 126). The episode in which the soul is challenged by demons upon leaving his body is developed into the Debate of the Body and Soul.3 But the "after-effect and stimulus" manifests itself on a larger level than that of toooi. The structure of the apocalypse itself provides a model for other visions. The Vision of Tundale. for example, is an "imitation" of earlier visions, among them that of Paul (Gerould 248). P. Vielhauer applied the term "pseudo-apocalypse" to the Pastor Hermae^. one of the first of the "new literary creations," and that phrase will serve as a useful label for an entire class of writings. As used in this dissertation, "pseudo-apocalypse" will be applied to texts that are indebted, directly or indirectly, to apocalypse for their structures but differ from apocalypse in one or both of the following ways. First, while the author of a pseudo-apocalypse may adopt most of the conventions of apocalypse—vision or multiple vision, journey, guide, and allegory—the content placed within this structure in some way may be said not to be "apocalyptic" at all. Eschatology 77 may be present in the pseudo-apocalypse, but the concern will not always be with what happens at the end o-f time. Rather, the content of pseudo-apocalypse takes the form of an increasing concern with the fate of the soul immediately after death. Pseudo-apocalypse looks forward only glancingly, or not at all, to the fate of souls at the last judgment. And the pseudo apocalypse does not address its warnings to a collective audience, to an entire nation that must mend its ways. Pseudo apocalypse does not address an "Israel" that must reform as if it were one. The topic of pseudo-apocalypse is the progress or fate of the individual soul. In the case of the Pastor Hermae. the content is not eschatological at all, but, as Kirsopp Lake points out, it develops a doctrine of repentance that explores the ramifications of sin after baptism.5 Secondly, the pseudo-apocalypse is not pseudepigraphic. It is not attributed to any of the Old Testament figures that had long been associated with revelation. Nor is the pseudo apocalypse attributed to an apostle or another figure from the soon-to-be canonical books of the New Testament. The pseudo apocalypse is not set in the past. Instead, the revelation's contemporary authorship is frankly acknowledged. No attempt is made to disguise the authorship or date of the revelation. This fact will create problems of authority for these revelations, but it will also provide new possibilities. 78 This change from pseudonymous to non-pseudonymous authorship can only be explained by -first accounting -for the impulse toward pseudonymity itself. But hitherto most attempts to account -for pseudonymity have not stressed the connection between the content o-f an apocalypse and the conventions that embody that content. Instead, most theories -focus on sociological explanations. Such an approach is taken by R. H. Charles in the introduction to the second volume o-f his collection Apocrypha and Pseudepiorapha o-f the Old Testament, in which he explains the phenomenon of pseudonymity exclusively within the context of Judaic beliefs about the validity of revelation. He traces the practice of pseudonymity to the third century B.C., and argues that it arose from "the absolute supremacy of the Law, which left no room for prophecy*: . . . in the third century B.C. the Law had come to be conceived as the final and supreme revelation of God. When once this idea of an inspired Law—adequate, infallible, and valid for all time—had became an accepted dogma of Judaism, as it became in the post- Exilic period, there was no longer room for independent representatives of God appearing before men, such as the pre-Exilic prophets. God had, according to the official teachers of the Church, spoken His last and final word through the Law, and when the hope was expressed that in the coming age a prophet will arise, he was only conceived as one whose task was to decide questions of ritual or priestly succession, or legal interpretation in accordance with the Law. (APOT II vi i i) Thus, argues Charles, *[tlhe prophet who issued a prophecy under his own name after the time of Ezra and Nehemiah could not expect a hearing unless his prophecy had the imprimatur of the Law* 79 (APOT II v iii). The authors o-f Daniel, Enoch, Jubilees, and the Testaments o-f the XI1 Patriarchs, who "not only challenged many o-f the orthodox views o-f the time and condemned them, but . . . also carried -forward the revelation of God in the provinces of religion, ethics, and eschatology,” were forced to issue their prophecies under the names of great figures of the past whose authority would stymie the objections of the orthodox adherents to the Law (APOT II viii-ix>. The second circumstance that Charles believes contributed to the need for pseudonymity was the evolution and sealing of the three-part canon of Law, Prophets, and Wisdom Literature. Once the canon of the prophets had closed, the only prophetic books that could gain a hearing were pseudonymous ones (pp. viii-ix). The pattern was set by the acceptance of the book of Daniel into the Uisdom Literature: Daniel was admitted into the Canon in the belief that it was written by the ancient worthy of that name; but not among the Prophets, for the prophetic Canon was closed, but among the Hagiographa. The example of Daniel was followed by Jewish apocalyptic down to the thirteenth century A.D. It was pseudonymous and remained pseudonymous; for the Law was supreme, inspiration was officially held to be dead, and the Canon was closed. (APOT II ix> Charles contrasts this situation with that of "anti-legalistic" Christianity (APOT II vii), in which, he claims, "for the first century at any rate, apocalyptic ceased to be pseudonymous, and the seer came forward in his own person" (APOT II v iii). 80 Let us accept for a moment that Char1es/s explanation is adequate to account for the adoption of pseudonymity in a peculiarly Judaic context.^ Whatever the impulse or impulses that caused Jewish writers to adopt pseudonymity, Charles's model does not account for the literary practices of the "anti- legalistic” Christians, who were adapting and composing pseudonymous texts well before they had any canon to circumvent. There was, in fact, no first-century break in the tradition of pseudonymity, which moved directly into Christianity, both in apocalypse and in other genres. This pseudonymity was not a response by Christians to events analogous to the closing of the Old Testament canon, as Charles seems to imply by claiming a first-century pause in the use of the tactic of pseudonymity. Christians did not begin to grapple with defining a list of inspired books authored (reputedly) by the apostles, the standard for Christian canonicity, (Schneemelcher 30-31) until the middle of the second century (Schneemelcher 23), and even at the end of that century there was no universally accepted canon. By the end of the second century only the Gospels of Matthew and Mark had been universally accepted, but "the Gospel of Luke on the other hand was only hesitatingly recognized and . . . there was considerable opposition to the Gospel of John.” Schneemelcher presents evidence that in the last quarter of the second century some people rejected all the writings attributed to John, and that as late as the second decade of the third century the Gospel 81 of John was not universally accepted (Schneemelcher 33). The canon does seem to have acquired a "-fixed primitive form" near the beginning of the third century, but there were regional variations and'certain books remained in dispute literally for centuries (Schneemelcher 34).^ The Christian canon thus was not closed in the second half of the second century, but pseudepigrapha were nevertheless being composed. Nor was there any stranglehold of the law analogous to the one posited by Charles. Finally, pseudonymity was not necessitated by belief that inspiration was dead. The validity of inspiration is explicitly defended in Acts, when Peter rebuts the charge of drunkenness made against the apostles, who, on Pentecost, were "filled with the Holy Ghost; and they began to speak with divers tongues, according as the Holy Ghost gave them to speak" (Acts 2: 4). Peter cites Joel 2: 28-32a to prove that those speaking in tongues foreign to them have been inspired: this is that which was spoken of by the prophet Joel: And it shall come to pass, in the last days (saith the Lord), 1 will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy: and your young men shall see visions; and your old men shall dream dreams. And upon my servants, indeed, and upon my handmaids will I pour out in those days of my spirit; and they shall prophesy. (Acts 2: 16-18) C. . . hoc est quod dictum est per prophetam Ioel: Et erit in novissimis diebus (dicit Dominus), Effundam de Spiritu meo super omnem carnem: Et prophetabunt filii vestri, et filiae vestrae, Et iuvenes vestri visiones videbunt, Et seniores vestri somnia somniabunt. Et quidem super servos meos, et super ancillas meas, In diebus ill is effundam de Spiritu meo, Et 82 prophetabunt. . . .] If inspiration had ever been held to be closed, this passage reopened it, and not only for the apostles but for other early Christians. Over a hundred years after Acts was composed the passage was used in the preface an unknown redactor added to the testaments composed by Perpetua and Saturus shortly before their execution about 202 C.E. In the Passion of the Holy Martyrs Perpetua and F elicitas. both Perpetua and Saturus narrate dreams that depict the fate of souls after death. The redactor first defends collecting "modern examples" of faith by arguing that such contemporary examples "will one day become ancientand available for posterity, although in their present time they are esteemed of less authority, by reason of presumed veneration for antiquity." He then argues on the same grounds used by Peters . . . l e t men look to it, if they judge the power of the one Holy Spirit to be one, according to the times and seasons; since some things of later date must be esteemed of more account, as being nearer to the very last times, in accordance with the exuberance of grace manifested to the final periods determined for the world. For "in the last days, saith the Lord, I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh; and their sons and their daughters shall prophesy. And upon my servants and my handmaidens will I pour out of my Spirit; and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams." And thus we . . . both acknowledge and reverence, even as we do the prophecies, modern visions as equally promised to us. . . . (Wallis 27d-??> We are therefore still left with the question: why pseudonymity? And, what is perhaps more important for our purposes, why is pseudonymity finally dropped by some Christian writers? The 83 answer to the first question will help us answer the second. P. Vielhauer examines pseudonymity in the early Christian period but he follows the lead of Charles in attempting to find sociological explanations for its presence or absence. His explanation, like that of Charles, hinges on whether a belief in the validity of revelation existed during the given period any one author was active. For example, writing about Christian prophecy in Palestine, he suggests that apocalyptic pseudonymity could be dispensed with because we find for the first time the union of prophecy and Apocalyptic, a union which finds expression again and most impressively in the author of the Apocalypse of John. . . . As far as their vocation is concerned, the prophets were not Apocalyptists, but charismatic leaders of the churches, and the seer John did not compose the Apocalypse in his capacity as prophet—for the other prophets mentioned by him wrote no such books—but at the direct command of the exalted Lord, and that means, with authentic prophetic consciousness; consequently he did not write under a pseudonym, but under his own name. Later Apocalyptic and prophecy again fall apart; all Christian apocalypses are pseudonymous. (Uielhauer 1965a 607). To Vielhauer, then, the author of Revelation is a "genuine prophet" who "knows he has been called by Christ" and who believes that the authority of his own name is sufficient (Vielhauer 1965b 623). Lacking such a belief, an author would resort to pseudonymity. Vielhauer's explanation, however, presents two difficulties. First, it is in fact not accurate to state that "all Christian apocalypses are pseudonymous" after the period when "Ealpocalyptic and prophecy . . . f a l l apart." Secondly, like 84 Charles, Vielhauer is constructing an explanation for pseudonymity that is external to the text and contingent on a set of events peculiar to one time and one culture. Yet the strategy of pseudonymity was used by writers of many times and many cultures, and not just in apocalypses but in many types of texts. For example, as Vielhauer himself notes, Greek Sibylline literature, long before it was adopted by Jews of the Hellenistic Diaspora, ‘contained prophecies of disastrous content, and . . . were attributed to the ancient Sibyl who kept prophesying through the ages" (Vielhauer 1965a 600). These Sibyllines feature the same kind of vaticinium ex eventu as that found in Jewish apocalypse. An alternative line of inquiry is suggested by the explanation for the popularity of pseudonymity offered by John 8. Gabel and Charles B. Wheeler, who suggest that [plerhaps the best way to conceive of pseudonymity in the late biblical and postbiblical era . . . is . . . as a literary convention. In the absence of charismatic figures who could proclaim with certainty, "Thus says the Lord," the vacuum was filled by written documents that set forth truth as the authors saw it but that claimed as authority the names of appropriate religious figures from the great days of the past. Pseudonymity of this kind was simply an established means of communication on spiritual matters at times—a way you did it when you had ideas to get across. (Gabel and Wheeler 134) Speaking specifically of apocalypse, they suggest that pseudonymnity is simply one of the conventions of the genre, a practice established by the Book of Daniel and its prototypical apocalypses: 85 The -figure Daniel . . . was a celebrated wise man, one to whom folktales had attached over the centuries. The writer of the book that bears his name selected that particular figure as the one to receive and describe a series of apocalyptic visions. Other such figures in apocalyptic writings are Enoch, Isaiah, Baruch (the secretary of Jeremiah), Ezra, Peter, and Paul. . . . Here it will suffice to remark that (1) the pioneering apocalypticist, the author of the book of Daniel, chose the potent figure of wise Daniel as his spokesperson in order to gain a hearing for his message of hope and (2) the success of the book of Daniel encouraged later imitation of its major literary features, including pseudonymity. In other words, what we are dealing with is a literary convention: If any writer after the time of Daniel chose to express his ideas in the form of an apocalypse, he used the standard features of apocalypses, including pseudonymity. (Gabel and Wheeler 134) Although the evidence marshalled by Vielhauer raises some questions about the extent to which there was an "absence of charismatic figures" (see n. d), the phrase "literary convention" invites us to consider pseudonymity as a literary phenomenon. Instead of looking at events external to the text which might have dictated this convention, perhaps we should examine how pseudonymity functioned in any given text. Certainly pseudonymity did lend authority to a text, even in the absence of belief that the canon was closed or that inspiration was dead. During the first century, when no text was canonical, all texts competed for a hearing, and attributing a text to an apostle was one way to gain one. Indeed, some now-canonical books won their place in the New Testament because they were falsely attributed 9 to apostles. But 1 think that we can be even more specific about how pseudonymity functioned in a text. Comparing the 86 apocalypses that adopted pseudonymity—the vast majority—with the handful that did not will demonstrate that pseudonymity was a literary convention not dictated by a closed canon but one which developed and continued as a sensible and useful way o-f handling a particular content -favored by Jewish apocalyptists. That content not being of interest to Christian apocalyptists, pseudonymity ceased to be mandatory. However, the convention was so thoroughly established that most writers continued it. John J. Collins divides Jewish and Christian apocalypses into two categories depending upon whether or not they incorporate a tour of the otherworld. He further subdivides apocalypses by, among other criteria, whether or not they contain reviews of history. Of the non-journey apocalypses, those containing historical reviews are almost exclusively Jewish compositions. The only Christian example is "probably an adaptation of a Jewish work" (Collins 1979a 14). However, the non-journey apocalypses that depict either "Cosmic and/or Political Eschatology or Personal Eschatology" are exclusively Christian or Gnostic (Collins 1979a 14). Similarly, of the apocalypses containing otherworld tours, those incorporating historical reviews are again distinctly Jewish. No Christian examples exist, not even as adaptations of Jewish apocalypses. But there are Jewish, Christian, and Gnostic examples of tour apocalypses that depict cosmic, political, or personal eschatology. 87 All Jewish apocalypses are pseudonymous. But Adel a Yarbro Collins identities, in addition to the Shepherd o-f Hermas. tour early Christian apocalypses that do not employ pseudonymity: Revelation, composed towards the end ot the tirs t century} the Shepherd ot Hermas. written in the tirs t halt ot the second century; the Book ot Elchasai. composed in the opening years ot the second century; the Book ot the Resurrection ot Jesus Christ by Bartholomew the Apostle 17b—19b; and the Story ot Zosimus (Yarbro Collins 104). Following the classification scheme of John J. Collins, Yarbro Collins groups Revelation, the Shepherd of Hermas. and the Book of Elchasai with the non-journey apocalypses that present cosmic and/or political eschatology (Yarbro Collins 70 ft). She classifies the apocalypse imbedded in verses 17b-19b of the Book of the Resurrect ion of Jesus Christ by Bartholomew the Apostle as a non-journey apocalypse featuring personal eschatology (Yarbro Collins 78 ft). She emphasizes that there are "notable differences between the Christian apocalypses of the non-journey type and the corresponding Jewish ones": All [italics hers] the Jewish apocalypses of this type have both a review of history and cosmic eschatology as well as personal eschatology. (Yarbro Collins 83) The final non-pseudonymous Christian apocalypse, the Story of Zosimus^ is classified by Yarbro Collins as a tour apocalypse that depicts only personal eschatology (Yarbro Collins 8? ff). In short, not one of the non-pseudonymous Christian apocalypses— indeed, scarcely any Christian apocalypse at a ll—contains a 88 recitation o-f history. Such recitations were accomplished through vatic inium ex eventu. i.e., through purported prophecy attributed to a figure from the distant past. In other words, the historical surveys were accomplished through the convention of pseudonymity. This was indeed an admirable way of lending authority to the actual prophecies of the end of time with which the historical surveys culminated; the "prophecy" up to contemporary times was always demonstrably accurate. But when Christians adopted and adapted the genre of the apocalypse they were not interested in what Vielhauer calls the "national eschatology” of Israel (Vielhauer 1965a 606). The types of apocalypse that revolved around historical recitations were not embraced by Christians. Pseudonymity was therefore no longer required as a strategy to set the apocalypse in the distant past. The Revelation of John is a case in point, When Uielhauer observed that Revelation was not pseudonymous, he also noted that "Calll the traditional apocalyptic features associated with pseudonymity and antiquity are missing," and among such features he includes the "surveys of history in phases given in the form of predictions" in an article on "Pseudonymity, Historical Reviews and the Genre of the Revelation of John," suggests that the 8 ? most basic ‘function of ex. eventu prophecies was rendered superfluous by the historical context of Revelation. Insofar as pseudonymity was designed to provide an occasion for such prophecy, it was rendered superfluous too.U As this observation demonstrates, in the final analysis a sociological explanation must be sought to explain why the Christians rejected the "national eschatology" so prominent in Jewish apocalypses. But once it is recognized that the Christian apocalyptists embraced new subject matter, then the problem of the presence or absence of pseudonymity can be explored as a literary phenomenon. Most Christian apocalypses are in fact pseudonymous, not because they had to be but because pseudonymity had indeed become a literary convention, and still a very useful one for bringing authority to a vision. But some writers dropped the convention, no longer dictated by the presentation of peculiarly Jewish historical content, in favor of explicitly confronting the spiritual crises faced by Christians as individuals and/or as a community. The stage is then set for "pseudo-apocalypse," which borrows many of the trappings of apocalypse, but not pseudonymity, and which has its own content. Ironically enough, in the case of the Shepherd of Hermas. the author's decision to write in his own name may have ultimately helped assure the book a hearing that was finally lost to the pseudonymous Aoocalyose of Peter. In the Muratori Canon, which was composed in Greek around the year 200, the Shepherd. 90 Revelation, and the Apocalypse o-f Peter are classi-fied together as "revelations," but the author o-f the Canon acknowledges that some have doubts about the canonicity of the Revelation of Peter. The Shepherd of Hermas. however, which makes no claim to apostolic authority, is nevertheless treated with great respect as a valuable book, even if not canonical: . . . of the revelations we accept only those of John and Peter, which (latter) some of our people do not want to have read in the Church. But Hermas wrote the Shepherd quite lately in our time in the city of Rome, when on the throne of the church of the city of Rome the bishop Pius, his brother, was seated. And therefore it ought indeed to be read, but it cannot be read publicly in the Church to the people either among the prophets, whose number is settled, or among the apostles to the end of time. (Schneemelcher 45). The Shepherd of Hermas was so esteemed by some that it, as well as the Appealypse of Peter. was actually included in one catalogue of the canon, composed in the Uest in the fourth century (Schneemelcher 45), but it is excluded by the Decretum Gelasianum, composed in the Uest in the sixth century, and by the ninth century Stichometry of Nicephorus (Schneemelcher 44, 51). Thus both the Revelation of Peter and the Shepherd of Hermas were for a time considered for inclusion in the canon, but both were ultimately excluded, the Revelation of Peter in spite of its claim to apostolic authority. But the Shepherd, perhaps partly because of the kind of claim to authority it does not make, wins an audience in the Uest that is lost to Peter (which does not even survive in Latin). In 367, Athanasius numbers the Shepherd among the 91 other books besides these [canonical ones], which have not indeed been put in the canon, but have been appointed by the fathers as reading matter for those who haue just come forward and wish to be instructed in the doctrine of piety. (Schneemelcher 60) He condemns, however, the 'apocrypha7, which are, he charges, a fabrication of the heretics, who write them down when it pleases them and generously assign to them an early date of composition in order that they may be able to draw upon them as supposedly ancient writings and have in them occasion to deceive the guileless. (Schneemelcher 60>*2 The convention of pseudonymity, instead of lending authority to a 'revelation', could arouse hostility, at least among leaders of the church. Revelation and vision will be suspect throughout the Middle Ages, but beginning with the Shepherd of Hermas. it was possible- -perhaps even in some ways desirable—for the visionary to speak in his or her own voice. Pseudonymity, which for so long had been such a useful convention, will be replaced by other means of impressing the readers with the authority of the visionary. CHAPTER V THE SHEPHERD OF HERMAS AND THE PASSION OF SAINTS PERPETUA AND FELICITAS It would create a -false sense o-f uni-form progression to suggest that apocalypse developed smoothly and irrevocably into neo-apocalypse. Some writers adhered to the convention o-f the pseudonymous writer; simultaneously others wrote under their own names or attributed revelations to -fictive contemporary narrators instead o-f venerable Biblical -figures. For example, the pseudonymous Visio Sanct i Paul i was composed near the end o-f the -fourth century, well after the two texts that will be examined in this chapter as examples of the shift in content that accompanied the choice of a non-pseudonymous narrator. The first of these two, the Shepherd of Hermas. a sequence of allegorical, ecstatic visions that utilizes the structure but little of the content of apocalypse, was composed around the middle of the second century (Yarbro Collins 74). The second, the Passion of Saints Perpetua and Felicitas. a testament that incorporates visions of the otherworld, was recorded short l.y after Perpetua's execution about the year 202 A.D. (Wallis 275). Both take advantage of the possibilities inherent in apocalypses like the Testaments of the 92 93 XII Patriarchs, the Ascension of. Isaiah, and the Visio Sancti Paul i to portray the spiritual crises con-fronted by an individual. Journey and allegory are used to explore the choices that con-front an individual rather than to portray cosmic and national eschatology. The earl ier o-f the two books, the The Shepherd of. Hermas. is a neo-apocalypse divided into three sections: The First Book o-f Hermas. which is called his “Visions"; The Second Book of Hermas. called his “Commands" or “Mandates"; and The Third Book o-f Hermas. which is called his “Similitudes." In -fact, all three sections, not just the -first, contain visions and raptures. But these visions and raptures are -for the most part not vehicles -for eschatology but rather part o-f a -framework -for an allegory o-f church doctrine on the necessity -for repentance in the -face o-f the Parousia. As Kirsopp Lake has pointed out, "though the book is apocalyptic and visionary, its object is practical and ethical,” -for it returns repeatedly to the "problem . . .o f sin after baptism."* Similarly, Vielhauer has observed that the book contains "revelations on the possibility of Christian repentance" Lake in arguing the extent to which the Shepherd limits itself to the practical and the ethical. He suggests that the Shepherd completely lacks eschatological content. He argues that the Shepherd is "an Apocalypse in its form and style, but not in its content, since it includes no disclosures of the eschatological •future or o-f the world beyond."^ Vielhauer attempts to illustrate the non-apocalyptic character o-f this apocalyptic book with a brief analysis of Vision IV, the only section that contains typical apocalyptic images and characters. But here, Vielhauer claims, this "apocalyptic material* is not used eschatologically traits in the picture of the future End-time which threatens the whole of mankind" but points out that "they are 'de- eschatologized' and re-interpreted" into personal symbols in Hermas/s own individual struggle to achieve and salvation. Drawing on the work of Martin Dibelius, Vielhauer argues that the shift from interest in the last days to interest in the fate of the individual immediately after death accounts for the peculiar treatment of normally apocalyptic material, the fact that "ttlhe description of the heavenly journey of the individual takes on features of the final fate of the cosmos" (Vielhauer 1965b 638).^ Yet a concern with genuine eschatology is not completely lacking in the Shepherd. While Adela Yarbro Collins, like Kirsopp Lake, observes that the "primary interest of the book is how to deal with sins after baptism," she also argues that the book betrays a "strong eschatological interest" (Yarbro Collins 74). The eschatology takes the form of an interest both in the fate of souls after death and in the end times.^ Images and words can function on more than one level; a conventionally eschatological image can be used to portray a personal spiritual crisis or earthly developments even while simultaneously retaining its more traditional signification. For example, as Collins points out, the same word is used to refer both to the persecution o-f individual Christians and the coming last days (Vis III, viii. 9\ see Yarbro Collins 74). Finally, the author's beliefs about repentance, while the central topic of the book, are predicated on the expectation that God will soon break into history and bring it to a close: The eschatological orientation of the book is shown in the fact that repentance and forgiveness of sins after baptism are not accepted as a repeatable process. The book proclaims a new but final call for repentance which presupposes a short time until the end, during which the faithful can indeed remain sinless (Vis II. ii). (Yarbro Collins 74) Vielhauer pointed to Vision IV as an example of the non- apocalyptic use of traditionally apocalyptic images, but a closer analysis illustrates that these images, while they are adapted as symbols of the individual's personal struggle to reach salvation, have also retained their apocalyptic associations. The traditionally apocalyptic images in Vision IV would be more accurately described as multi-leveled than as non-apocalyptic. The beast that Hermas confronts is a personal obstacle that he 96 encounters in his own times in the course o-f his own journey, but it also -functions, as Church tells him, as a "type o-f the great persecution to come" (Vis. IV. ii. 5, iii. A). The -features o-f the beast also retain eschatological signi-ficance. The beast has a multi-colored head, and the Church explains to Hermas the meaning o-f each color. One, the "colour o-f -fire and blood," she explains, signifies that "this world must come be destroyed by blood and -fire" (Vis. IV. iii. 3). Nevertheless, while the book is not utterly devoid o-f eschatological content, such content is subsidiary to the book's main theme, which is indeed, as both Lake and Vielhauer agree, the possibility of salvation for Christians who have sinned after baptism. The bulk of the book does address the practical and ethical, and the eschatology is a backdrop to the book, not the subject of it. In the course of expounding upon the theme of salvation for those who have reverted to wrongdoing, the author of the Shepherd uses the genre of apocalypse in new ways. Like a traditional apocalypse, the Shepherd of Hermas is a first-person narrative divided by the "fixed outlines" of raptures and visions that are revealed and interpreted by angels over the course of many dialogues with the visionary. But in a departure from the usual form, the two angels are more than interpreters of the visions. Instead, they are figures with several layers. In Vis. I I .4.1 and I II .3.3 the old lady is identified with the Church; this is an entirely secondary feature which conflicts with the fact that the Church is the recipient of the 97 message o-f repentance -from the old lady and that its condition is dealt with by her in Vis. III. . . . An analogous situation obtains in the case o-f the Shepherd. He is designated as the angel o-f repentance, but he is also the one to whom Hermas 'has been delivered", and he "who will live with him the rest o-f the days o-f his li-fe", i.e. a protecting angel." (Vielhauer 1965b 634) The interpreting angels of earlier apocalypses have here turned into the multi-layered characters of an allegory (Vielhauer 1965b 635). Allegory is a typical feature of apocalypses (Vielhauer 1965b 635), but the allegory in the Shepherds of Hermas is striking in its extent and complexity and in the fact that the anoeli i nterpretes have been drawn into it. Both angels illustrate the "artificial linking and allegorizing of different figures and motifs," a characteristic of the Shepherd that is "prominent, and . . . remarkable throughout the entire work . . ." (Vielhauer 1965b 635). And, again, as the above discussion pointed out, the allegory in the Shepherd is, in the main, not used to portray the end of time but to elucidate points of developing Christian doctrine. The allegory in the Shepherd is not, in the words of Vielhauer, "eschatologically determined" (Vielhauer 1965b 635). The content of the Shepherd differs from that of traditional apocalypse. So, too, does the purpose of the allegory and the role of the angels. But attention should also be paid to the change in the role of the narrator, which differs dramatically from that of the visionary in the Vision of Isaiah or the Visio 98 Sancti Paul i . Because o-f the omission of historical review in the guise of history, the narrator is able to come forward under his own name. Furthermore, the author has converted into a positive virtue the fact that he no longer needs a pseudonymous narrator. The author of the Visio Sancti Pauli. less innovative, has preserved the convention of the pseudonymous narrator and is forced to artificially motivate Paul's rapture. And both Paul and Isaiah must be incongruously ignorant in order to provide the motivation that allows the angels to expound the requisite doctrine. But Hermas, neither patriarch nor prophet nor apostle, has no claim to sanctity. Paul repeatedly worries about the fate of other souls; Hermas is worried about the fate of his own soul. He is a narrator convincingly in need of revelations on the subject of penitence. Thus is created a figure authentically in need of growth, who, in the course of multiple visions, engages in allegorical actions as he moves through an allegorical landscape peopled with allegorical figures. The result is a book that causes a student of medieval literature to feel again and again a shock of recognition, for Hermas might well be Dante or Langland's Long Will. The first book of this allegorical quest, that of the "Visions," is, as the title suggests, made up of not one but several visions. This feature, that of repeated visions, is a common one in apocalypse. We have already seen its presence in the apocalyptic sections of the Testaments of the XII Patriarchs. 99 Here the division into discrete visions and raptures marks the stages that Hermas must go through before certain truths may be revealed to him. Also typical of apocalypse is the fact that the first vision occurs in response to crisis. But atypicalis the fact that the crisis is a personal one. Unlike Reuben and Levi, Hermas does not receive a vision because he is distressed by the condition of Israel. Instead, he is personally distressed. After he sees a beautiful woman bathing in the Tiber, his mind becomes filled with the thought that it would be pleasant to have such a woman as a wife: When I saw her beauty I reflected in my heart and said: "I should be happy if I had a wife of such beauty and character.* This was my only thought, and no other, not one. C. . . bonam speciem eius considerans coepi inanimo meo cogitare dicens: Beatus essem si talem uxorem haberem bonis moribus et optima specie, cumque hoc solum cogitassem.l5 This line could be interpreted in a two-fold manner: Hermas has become obsessed with the thought of this woman, or his wish was purely innocent. Certainly Hermas did not believe his desire to be sinful—at least not initially. But while traveling to Cumae he becomes sleepy and is seized by a spirit and carried to and through a special landscape, but not to any particular, named locale. He comes to a plain, after being carried *through a certain pathless d istrict, through which a man could not walk, but the ground was precipitous and broken up by* rocks and falling fissures Visionary Allegory," the landscape is a reflection of the state of turmoil that Hermas has been thrown into because of his desire for the woman. The setting "reflecttsl his inner turbulence, functioning as a minuscule 'selva obscura' in the hero's spiritual journey.*^ In addition, Hermas's passage through this difficult landscape suggests that this is not a journey that a man could take unaided. This element, the inability of a visionary to make unaided progress, physical or spiritual, has been implied in the other apocalypses by the very presence of the angeli interoretes. It will become an explicit element in such a later vision as that of Tundale. Having arrived at the nameless plain, Hermas kneels down to pray. As he does so the heavens open to reveal the first of several mediators who will instruct Hermas in a series of vertical dialogues. This mediator, like Dante's Beatrice, is the woman whom Hermas had desired, and she accuses him of sin and urges him to pray. The heavens then close, and Hermas, like Long Will in the beginning of Piers Plowman, is left "all shuddering and in grief," posing to himself the question, "If this sin is recorded against me, how shall I be saved?" (Lake 11). An important first step has been taken; Hermas has been shaken out o-f his complacency. Several of the visions written subsequent to the Shepherd will also contain initial visions that pose a problem or make the visionary aware of the struggle he faces to reach salvation. For example, in the Vision of Uiettin. which directly cites the Shepherd, the aged monk confronts evil angels who personify Deceit. But instead of falling into despair, a temptation posed by the representations of the evil angels, the monk responds correctly by having the fourth book of Gregory's Dialogues read to him, and he is thereby strengthened through a subsequent vision.? As Hermas meditates, a great chair made of white wool appears before him, and the second mediator, "a woman, old and clothed in shining garments with a book in her hand" appears and takes her place in the chair (Lake 11). This lady expatiates upon the sin of desire and upon Hermas's other sins. She then reads from her book, but many of her words "were frightful, such as a man cannot bear," so that Hermas cannot remember them. But he does succeed in committing the last few words to memory, "for they were profitable to us and gentle* (Lake 15). The Shepherd emphasizes the possibility of salvation even for the faithful who sin but who nevertheless sincerely repent. The division between the two sections of the lady's book underscores this possibility: the first words, the harsh ones, are for the "heathen and 102 apostates" but the second words, the gentle ones, are -for the "righteous" (Lake 17). The second vision takes place a year later as Hermas is once more on his way to Cumae. While Hermas is thinking about the previous vision, "the spirit again seized me and took me away to the same place, where I had been the previous year" (Lake 17). Hermas kneels down to pray, thanking the Lord -for making him worthy of this vision and for revealing to him his sinfulness in the first vision. After he has finished praying, the old woman appears, this time "walking and reading out from a little book" (Lake 17). This book contains what Lake calls the "main point" of the Shepherd, that it is possible for sin after baptism to be forgiven, though only once. Now it becomes clearer why Hermas has chosen to use the trappings of authority provided by the form of an apocalypse or revelation, for Hermes's teaching differs from that of Hebrews 01 and other texts, which do not hold out the possibility of repentance after baptism (Lake 21 n 1). Hermas is claiming that a new doctrine has been revealed to him. Indeed, a device of revelation on top of revelation seems designed to highlight the fact that Hermas is claiming the status of inspiration for his book. He is allowed to transcribe the book but its meaning is hidden from him. However, after he fasts for fifteen days, "the knowledge of the writing was revealed to me" (Lake 19). The circumstances surrounding the message seem designed to bring authority to the revelation, but since the 103 Shepherd is not set in the past through pseudonymity, the usual story o-f the sealing o-f the revelation is not needed. Dispensing with such a command, necessary to explain why a presumably ancient revelation had only lately begun to circulate, the woman instead -forthrightly orders Hermas to "take this message to God/s elect ones” (Lake 19). Hermas is claiming a divine commission. Two additional short visions within Vision II reinforce the importance o-f the message contained in the little book. While Hermas sleeps, a young man appears to him in a dream and asks him to identify the old woman. Hermas believes her to be a Sybil. The young man, however, tells him that she is "The Church," who is old because "she was created the first of all things" (Lake 25). By this means Hermas underscores the legitimacy of the teaching, whose source is not pagan, as some might mistakenly believe, but the venerable Church itself. The old woman herself reappears in another short vision to give detailed instructions on how Hermas is to disseminate the revelation. The third vision, like the unlocking of the secrets of the little book, takes place after Hermas, who is yet another insatiably curious visionary, has fasted for a long time and prayed for a further revelation that the Church had promised him while he was rapt in the second vision. As a result of his entreaties, Church appears and promises that, since the dreamer is "so importunate and zealous to know everything," she will show him another vision. She commands him to wait in a field where 104 she will rejoin him at a certain hour. As Hermas waits in the ■field, he confesses his sins, a confession which is overheard by the Church. Her reaction demonstrates how very different a narrator Hermas is from, for example, Isaiah, whose own ultimate place in heaven is not in question. The Church rebukes Hermas for his manner of confession, one which betrays selfishness: "Hermas! stop asking all these questions about your sins, ask also concerning righteousness, that you may take presently some part of it to your family" Are you sorry, Hermas? The seat on the right is for others, who have already been found wel1-pieasing to God and have suffered for the Name. But you fall far short of sitting with them. But remain in your simplicity as you are doing, and you shall sit with them, and so shall all who do their deeds and bear what they also bore. (Lake 29). CTristaris quoniam in parte dextra non sedisti? aliorum locus est: eorum qui iam placuerunt deo et passi sunt pro nomine eius. tibi autem multa restant ut cum ipsis sedeas. sed quomodo manes in simplicaitate tua, permane, et sedebis cum eis, tu et omnes quicunque fecerint quod illi fecerunt et passi fuerint ea quae passi sunt. (Gebhardt 33)3 After Church has explained who those are who may sit at the right hand and has once again held out the promise that Hermas, 105 though he has many -failings, may be "cleansed" -from them, she tries to depart, but, in response to Hermas"s renewed entreaties -for the promised vision, she raises a rod and reveals the six young men building a tower on water out o-f stones brought by thousands o-f other men. Some o-f the stones brought by the thousands are rejected by the six young men. O-f these, some are le-ft scattered around the tower, but some are cast far away, to roll into the desert or to fall into fire. The lady would have departed after pointing out the tower to Hermas, but he begs her to explain the meaning of thes sights: "Lady, what does it benefit me to see these things, if I do not know what they mean?" "You are a persistent man, wanting to know about the tower," but Hermas argues disarmingly that, if she will explain them, he will carry the word to his brethren. She agrees to explain the "parables of the tower" and to "reveal everything" to him, but warns him that he must afterward no longer trouble me about revelation, for these revelations are finished, for they have been fulfilled. Yet you will not cease asking for revelations, for you are shameless. (Lake 37) [nunquam me fatiges de iisdem. revelationes autem istae finem habent, quoniam completae sunt, non autem relinquetur revelatio, quae postulata fuerit, vacua. (Gebhardt 37)3 Again, Hermas tries to bring authority to his revelation by emphasizing how privileged he was to learn these things. At the same time he tries to forestall the acceptance, indeed, even the 106 utterance, o-f contradictory revelation. After his revelation, there will be no more. One wonders if the oft-proclaimed belief in the death of inspiration is simply a rhetorical strategy to deprive competing doctrines of the stamp of authority. The lady explains that the tower being built is herself, "the Church" (Lake 35; Gebhardt 37: turris enim ouam vides. ouae aedificatur. eoo sum Ecclesia?. But Hermas continues to press her for particulars and explanations. Through a series of questions and answers, we learn why the tower is built on water, who the six men are, who the thousands are, and what each kind of stone represents. At last, once again exasperated, Church demands, "How long will you be stupid and foolish, and ask everything and understand nothing?" (Lake 43). Nevertheless, she continues with her explanations, here pointing out that Hermas should "Culnderstand . . . first from your own case" why those who have faith but also "riches of this world" are not suitable building blocks for the Church (Lake 43). Once again Hermas becomes more than the excuse for conveying doctrine. The character of Hermas works on his own salvation in the course of this sequence of visions. After Hermas has finished asking the Church about the tower, she points out that seven women are about the tower, which is "supported by them" (Lake 47). The seven are in Latin Fides, Abstinentia, Simplicitas, Innocentia, Castitas, Disciplina, and Caritas, each of whom is the daughter of the preceeding virtue, 107 Faith thus being the mother o-f all. Like the building o-f the tower, the significance of the seven and their relationship one to another must be explicated by Church. Having delivered a virtual sermon on these seven virtues, Church is carried away by the six young men. But Hermas, waking, is still not satisfied. He wishes to know why Church has changed her appearance in the course of the three visions Now she had appeared to me brethren, in the first vision in the former year as very old and sitting on a chair. But in the second vision her face was younger, but her body and hair were old and she spoke with me standing; but she was more joyful than the first time. But in the third vision she was quite young and exceeding beautiful and only her hair was old; and she was quite joyful, and sat on a couch. (Lake 53) [visa enim mihi est, fratres, prima quidem visione annotina satis senior et super cathedra sedens. alia autem visione faciem iuvenis habebat, carnem autem erat quam ante, tertia autem visione visa est mihi tota iuvenis et formosa specie; solum autem capillos senior is habebat. hi laris autem in finem erat et super scamnum sedes. (Gebhardt 55)3 Troubled because he wishes an explanation for this revelation, Hermas is instructed by Church in yet another dream, "a vision of the night," to fast so that his wish will be fulfilled. After a fast of one day, a young man appears, who, after rebuking Hermas both because of his endless requests for revelation and because of his failure to understand the revelations that he has been granted, explains the three forms in which Church appeared to Hermas. Each form is a reflection not of the condition of the Church but of the limitations of Hermas at that point in the vision. At first Hermas's "spirit twals old and already fading 108 away, and hatdl no power through your weakness and double mindedness" (Lake 55). But as Hermas progresses spiritually, so too the Church, through increasingly youthfulness, seems to grow stronger. The revelation of the first vision renews Hermas's spirit, his faith becomes stronger, and he is therefore granted the vision of the tower. Likewise, once he has benefited from the second vision, his faith grows stronger s till, and Church becomes "young and beautiful and joyful" (Lake 59). The appearance of the Church, which could have been easily allegorized to represent the improving condition of a reformed community, is instead used to reflect the state of one soul within it. Stages—or at least potential stages—in the growth of a visionary were implied in Isaiah and Paul through the questions and comments of anoeli interoretes. Here in the Shepherd the stages are made explicit through the angel's commentary on the changing appearance of Church. In the fourth vision the Church takes yet another form. Hermas, "clothed in the faith of the Lord and remembering the great things which he had taught me" (Lake 63), safely bypasses a monstrous beast that is both a traditional apocalyptic figure and a symbol of personal testing for Hermas. After he has passed this test, he meets a maiden, "'adorned as if coming forth from the bridal chamber;' all in white and with white sandals, veiled to the forehead, and a turban for a head-dress, but her hair was white" (Lake 63). Church explains to him that he was able to 109 escape the beast because of his trust in the Lord. He is again commissioned to spread the word to the faithful. Then, after explaining some -features o-f the beast, she disappears -for the last time, to be replaced, in the Mandates and Similitudes, by a new mediator, the Shepherd -from which the book takes its name. The Shepherd's arrival, which inaugurates the Mandates, has traditionally been treated as the beginning o-f a -fifth vision, and Hermas's encounter with this teacher is indeed cast in the form of a revelatory experience. In fact, the Mandates and the Similitudes that follow are divided into a whole series of visions. The sequence begins when the Shepherd enters Hermas's home, where he is praying as he sits on his bed. The Shepherd, who is later identified as the "angel of repentance" first dictates commandments and parables to Hermas, stating and explaining metaphors for sin and salvation, but he also reveals to Hermas scenes that are handled in the same way as the allegorical process of the building of the tower of the Church. For example, in one visionary episode, Hermas, again in his house, "suddenly saw" the Shepherd sitting beside him (Lake 171). The Shepherd takes Hermas back into the country, where he reveals to him a vision of two shepherds and their flocks. Each shepherd is a personification, and the sheep likewise represent the kinds of men under the governance of each shepherd. The first shepherd is the "angel of luxury and deceit," the second the "angel of punishment," and Hermas's guide explains in allegorical terms how 110 luxury and deceit seduce men and how punishment -follows. In yet another episode, Hermas is walking in the country, where he sees an elm and a vine and is "considering them and their fruits" "some budding and some withered” (Lake 149), again expounding upon their meaning. The visions thus incorporate both personification and diagrammatic allegory. These features—the imperfect narrator, the allegorical landscapes and diagrams, and the many allegorical guides and other personifications—are those that seem so familiar to a student of medieval literature. By adopting the structure but not, for the most part, the content of apocalypse, the Shepherd of Hermas becomes an allegorical quest for individual salvation and a possible model for later such quests. Certainly any discussion of apocalypse in general will remind a reader of medieval allegory. Bernard McGinn's summary of the features of apocalypse in his Visions of the End sounds very much 1 ike a description of such a fourteenth-century poem as Llilliam Langland's Vi si on of Piers Plowman. The presence of allegorical figures is one characteristic mentioned by McGinn. He further points out that the vision of a journey, generally to heaven, is one of the most frequent forms taken by the apocalypses. Such a visionary journey usually disturbs and perplexes thetra v e le r.8 Similarly, in Piers Plowman, allegorical -figures are encountered by a perplexed traveler on a visionary journey. But in spite o-f these general sim ilarities, it is the Shepherd o-f Hermas in particular that seems to adumbrate medieval allegorical quests. O-f course, both the journey and the perplexity are -found in the Shepherd, which in addition relies heavily on allegory. But in the traditional apocalypses the guide or guides are nothing other than angelic psychopomps. They do not represent anything other than themselves. The Shepherd of Hermas. however, relies on several mediators that double as personi-fications, one o-f whom is the angel whose characteristics alter throughout the allegory but who personi-fies the church in its several mani-festations. Its guides do not only convey doctrine; they act out the process of salvation that is undergone by the narrator. Furthermore, however much the form of the traditional apocalypse reminds the reader of later allegories, it is the Shepherd of Hermas that demonstrates how that form could be adapted to non-eschatological content. The sim ilarities shared by the Shepherd and later allegories have not gone unnoticed. The possible influence of the Shepherd of Hermas has been briefly examined by Theodore Bogdanos, who attempts to demonstrate the role of the Shepherd as a "significant prototype in the development of medieval visionary allegory" (Bogdanos 33). He argues that the Shepherd "displays 112 for the first time the dramatic pattern which underlies most medieval allegorical dream visions from Boethius/s Consolation of Philosophy (ca. 524) on": The dreamer-hero finds himself in a profound spiritual crisis. One or several authoritative figures appear to him in one or several visions and help the dreamer place his crisis in a new perspective of truth} thus inducing its resolution. Such truth is communicated to the visionary hero through symbolic imagery and through rational, conceptually articulate dialogue in which the authoritative figure engages the dreamer. Their encounter takes place in a visionary landscape which has an objective reality of its own Bogdanos/s sketch of the pseudo-apocalypse could with ease be transformed into a description of such a later poem as Langland's. Not only does it share an overall pattern with Langland and other writers of allegorical dream visions; so too many of the smaller features are held in common. For example, Bogdanos compares the authoritative figure, in the Shepherd the woman who personifies the Church, to Boethius's Philosophia, Alan of Lille's Natura, Dante's Virgil, and Langland's Holy Church (Bogdanos 35, 37). Similarly, he suggests that later visions incorporate a feature of the visionary landscape of the Shepherd that he calls the "structural center," in Hermas's vision the tower whose construction represents not only the building of the Church but also the "process of restoration of man's inner identity and of his proper relationship to God's universal order" 113 (Bogdanos 43). The Shepherd o-f Hermas. influenced by apocalypse, itself becomes influential and thus passes down the pattern of the vision to succeeding generations of writers. Bogdanos suggests that early on it may have been a prototype of the pattern found in Boethius's Consolation. But perhaps it recontributed the pattern over the centuries and thus had both a direct and indirect influence on later writers. There is evidence for its continuing influence in the West both in the number of Latin manuscripts and the number of citations. Ernst Robert Curtius declares that the "Shepherd of Hermas is the most important document of early Christian vision literature" and states that it "circulated from the second century onwards in Latin translations."9 In their edition, Oscar De Qebhardt and Adolf Harnack list sixteen manuscripts dating from the ninth to the fifteenth centuries. (Five of these manuscripts, the latest dated to the fifteenth century, are in British libraries.) (Gebhardt xiv-xix). In the Patrolooiae Graeca. Migne reprints Gallandi's collection of citations of and quotations from the Shepherd, a list that includes Irenaeus of Lyons, Tertullian, Jerome, Rufinus, Cassian, Prosper, Maximus, Bede, Ualafrid Strabo, Pseudo-Tertul1ian, and John of Salisbury.*® Of these citations, that from the writing of Ualafrid Strabo is itself taken from a vision, one which shows the influence of the Shepherd of Hermas. 114 Another writer who apparently was influenced by the Shepherd of Hermas is Perpetua, who, along with fellow-Christian Saturus, was executed about 202. Shortly before their deaths both authored narratives recounting their persecution in jail and the visions they experienced while imprisoned. An unknown contemporary redactor supplied a preface and an account of the execution itse lf.1* J. Armitage Robinson, in the introduction to his edition of the Passion of Saints Perpetua and Felicitas. suggests that the Passion is indebted to the Shepherd for a "multitude of details.*1^ For example, in her first vision, Perpetua encounters and safely passes a huge dragon under circumstances very like those under which Hermas, in his fourth vision, encounters and safely passes a "very great beast" (Vis. iv. 1. 6) (Robinson 28). Robinson sees the influence of the Shepherd in the portrait of the man in habitu pastoris. though, as he acknowledges, the figure of a shepherd is common in "Christian literature and art.* (Robinson 28). Further parallels are, however, more compelling. Some are of ideas. The torment of Perpetua's brother and his ultimate deliverance mirror ideas in the Shepherd about the possibility of salvation through suffering after death. Other parallels are of characters or events or images. The comforting words spoken by the deacon Pomponius in Perpetua's fourth vision mirror the words spoken to Hermas by the Angel of Repentance, who speaks of wrestling with the devil. Yet another similarity is that between the 115 extraordinarily tall trainer carrying a rod and his assistants, who assist Perpetua before the wrestling match, and the tall man with the rod and his companions in the Shepherd. The shoes made o-f gold and silver Robinson compares with the a/white shoes" o-f the Church when she appears to Hermas a-fter he has escaped the Beast (Vis.iv,2.1). In the vision, after Perpetua wins the wrestling match against the Egyptian, i.e., the devil, she receives a ""green bough, on which were golden apples"" (Robinson 30). In the Shepherd, those who bear "rods with buds upon them and some fruit as well" may enter the Tower; the Shepherd, in reply to a question from Hermas, tells him that these favored individuals are those who "wrestled against the devil and wrestled him down . . . these are they who suffered on behalf of the Name" (Robinson 31). In addition to these and other parallels with the Shepherd in Perpetua's visions, Robinson finds the influence of the Shepherd in the vision of Saturus, Perpetua's fellow martyr. As he acknowledges, taken singly, each instance means little , but taken together, the parallels produce the impression that Perpetua and Saturus very likely knew the Shepherd; Evidence of this kind is cumulative; and even if individual instances of comparison may seem fanciful and overstrained, yet when we recall at once Perpetua's escape from the monstrous dragon by the help of the Name; her vision of the Nan in a shepherd's dress; the effort of Dinocrates to get at the water, and his subsequent release from punishment; the promise of Pomponius and the beautiful shoes; the green bough with the golden apples, and the going with glory to the Gate of Life: and then the passage of Saturus and herself, 116 borne by -four angels to the East; the more more glorious angels who clothe them and take them in; the Man with the white hair and youthful countenance; the kiss, and the command to go and play, and the unspeakable odour which took the place o-f -food; the bishop and presbyter rebuked to their quarrel 1 ings—it is di-f-ficult to believe that all these details, some of which.seem to cry for an explanation of some kind, are wholly independent of the striking parallels which are offered to us in the Shepherd of Hermas. (Robinson 34- 35) While the Shepherd of Hermas was an allegory only concerned in passing with eschatology, most other descendants of apocalypse continued in the eschatological tradition—but with a difference. The eschatological passages in the Testaments of the XII Patriarchs and in Ezra were first of all apocalyptic—concerned with the last days—and were secondly nationalistic—concerned not so much with the fate of the individual as the fate of Israel. The Visio Pauli and the Vision of Isaiah were eschatologically oriented but not concerned with the fate of Israel. But neither were they totally concerned with the fate of individuals—groups of sinners are portrayed, classes of sinners. But in the visions of Perpetua and Saturus, for the first time contemporary individuals are at the center of the visions. In the Passion, steadfast Christians confront death and their resolve is strengthened by visions of the reward they will receive for their faith. The visions play a role in the lives of two individuals. Out of this is born a new convention, one which replaces pseudonymity; again and again visions are reported by contemporaries on the point of death, and those visions help 117 prepare the visionaries -for death. This was not the case in the visions embedded in the Testaments o-f the XII Patriarchs, which, while narrated by men on the point o-f death, were experienced years earlier. Nor was it the case in the Visio Pauli. or the Vision o-f Ezra. The narrators in each of these cases is the excuse for, and lends authority to, the vision, but the vision plays no role in his life. In the coming visions, however, the narrators wi11 have personalities. They will be characterized by their visions and their reactions to them. Individuals will be seen coming to terms with death. Others will experience their visions while gravely ill but will recover and, because of the vision, will amend their lives and spend their remaining days in virtuous 1iving. The demise of pseudonymity allowed a new kind of vision, one in which fallible, troubled, even sinful narrators come forward to speak to their contemporaries. The brief visions in the Passion are themselves not outstanding for their images, which are very conventional. For example, Saturus's description of heaven includes mention of light, of singing, of the throne, and of the stolae or garments of the blessed, all elements that can be traced to earlier visions. But, conventional as the content of the visions is, the Passion is noteworthy for the way in which the visions are so thoroughly integrated into the narrative so that their significance, personal and allegorical, is made plain. Perpetua faces numerous trials that test her strength, not the least of 118 which is the pull of family—father, mother, two brothers, and her own nursing infant. She has to resist the temptation to weaken in her resolve out of concern for her family. She is concerned about her infant, and her father and mother make piteous appeals that she think of them and renounce her faith. Then of course the conditions of the dungeon are a tria l, and fear of the arena another one. But each of her trials is but another variation of one struggle, in which she must "wrestle" against the devil. Each is an obstacle that must be surpassed. Her father, for example, who, "overcome by the devil's arguments" (Uallis 278), comes to the dungeon to appeal to her, represents a temptation that must be resisted, and the visions provide a counterpoint to his arguments and appeals. The visions are linked together in a pattern that provides an allegorical level to Perpetua's experiences. Perpetua receives her first vision after several days of imprisonment, when one of her brothers urges her to seek a vision in order to learn their fates Then my brother said to me, 'My dear sister, you are already in a position of great dignity, and are such that you may ask for a vision, and that it may be made known to you whether this [trial] is to result in a passion or an escape.' (Wall is 279) [Tunc dixit mihi frater meus: Domina soror, iam in magna dignatione es, tanta ut postules uisionem et ostendatur tibi an passio sit an commeatus. (Robinson 66) ] This passage illustrates one ot the methods that replaced the conventions of antiquity and pseudonymity as means of lending 119 authority to revelation. Perpetua has the necessary stature to be the recipient of a revelation. Her sufferings on behalf of her faith entitle her to ask for a vision. Many medieval visions will follow the same pattern: a visionary, having suffered through a long period of mortification and meditation, has earned a vision. Sometimes the suffering of the visionary will take the form of a lengthy illness. Perpetua does ask for a vision and reports "what was shown me": I saw a golden ladder of marvellous height, reaching up even to heaven, and very narrow, so that persons could only ascend it one by one; and on the sides of the ladder was fixed every kind of iron weapon. There were there swords, lances, hooks, daggers; so that if any one went up carelessly, or not looking upwards, he would be torn to pieces, and his flesh would cleave to the iron weapons. And under the ladder itself was couching a dragon of wonderful size, who lay in wait for those who ascended, and frightened them from the ascent. (Wall is 279) Cuideo seal am aeream mirae magnitudinis pertingentem usque ad caelum, et angustam, per quam nonnisi singuli ascendere possent: et in lateribus scalae omne genus ferramentorum infixum. erant ibi gladii, lanceae, hami, macherae: ut, si quis neglegenter aut non sursum adtendens ascenderet, laniaretur et carnes eius inhaererent ferramentis. et erat sub ipsa scala draco cubans mirae magnitudinis, qui ascendentibus insidias praestabat, et exterrebat ne ascenderent. (Robinson 66)1 Perpetua sees that the first to ascend the ladder is Saturus, who will be the first to die. When he reaches the top he calls to Perpetua to follow him, but warns her to beware lest the dragon bite her. The dreaming Perpetua replies confidently: 120 And I said, 'In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, he shall not hurt me.' And from under the ladder itself, as if in fear of me, he slowly lifted up his head; and as I trod upon the first step, I trod upon his head. (Wal1 is 279) [et dixi ego: Non me nocebit in nomine Iesu Christi. et desub ipsa scala, quasi timens me, lente eiecit caput: et quasi primum gradum calcarem, calcaui illi caput. (Robinson 66, 68)] The image of treading on the head of the dragon, which represents Perpetua/s successful struggle against the devil, will be echoed in her vision of the wrestling match with the Egyptian and in the redactor's interpretation of Perpetua's entry into the arena on the day of her martyrdom. Perpetua arrives safely at the top of the ladder, where heaven takes the form of "an immense extent of garden,” and the Lord is a large, white-haired man, dressed like a shepherd and milking sheep, who gives to Perpetua a little cake of cheese. Perpetua then awakes, and her vision needs no interpretation: *1 immediately related this to my brother, and we understood that it was to be a passion, and we ceased henceforth to have any hope in this world” (Uallis 280). Her next vision helps her to remain steadfast even in the face of her fears for her family. Indeed, the vision demonstrates how her faith succours a member of her family, her younger brother Dinocrates. Perpetua is *besieged” by her father, who throws himself at her feet and for the second time begs her to reconsider her stand: 121 Have pity, my daughter, on my grey hairs. Have pity on your -father, i-f I am worthy to be called a -father by you. I-f with these hands I have brought you up to this ■flower o-f your age, if I have preferred you to all your brothers, do not deliver me up to the scorn of men. Have regard to your brothers, have regard to your mother and your aunt, have regard to your son, who will not be able to live after you. Lay aside your courage, and do not bring us all to destruction; for none of us will speak in freedom if you should suffer anything. (Wallis, 280) [Miserere, filia, canis meis; miserere patri, si dignus sum a te pater uocari; si his te manibus ad hunc florem aetatis prouexi; si te praeposui omnibus fratribus tuis: ne me dederis in dedecus horninum. aspice fratres tuos: aspice matrem tuam et materteram: aspice filium tuum, qui post te uiuere non poterit. depone animos; ne uniuersos nos extermines: nemo enim nostrum libere loquetur, si tu aliquid fueris passa. (Robinson 68)] Perpetua is, however, firm in her resolve, even when her tearful father throws himself at her feet and kisses her hands. The grief-stricken old man departs but some days later renews his appeal when Perpetua is publically interrogated. He appears with Perpetua's infant and begs her to have pity on her infant. The procurator seconds the father's appeal, but Perpetua remains firm and publically declares herself to be a Christian. The procurator orders the old man to be beaten—a sight grievous to Perpetua—and condemns Perpetua and her fellow-Christians "to the wild beasts" (Wallis 281). Perpetua cheerfully returns to the dungeon, but soon has cause to fret on account of a family member. She had been nursing her child in prison and accordingly, once she has returned to the prison, she sends for her infant. But her father will not relinquish the child. Yet, through a small act of 122 divine intervention, Perpetua is relieved o-f the discomfort she might have suffered through being denied the infant: And even as God willed it, the child no longer desired the breast, nor did my breasts cause me uneasiness, lest I should be tormented by care for my babe and by the pain of my breasts at once. (Wallis 281). tet quomodo Deus uoluit, neque ille amplius mammas desiderat, neque mihi feruorem fecerunt: ne sol 1icitudine infantis et dolore mammarum macerarer, (Robinson 72)1 Perpetua's next vision, narrated immediately after the above episode, is placed within this context of grief and care for family. Her vision of her brother Dinocrates provides a counterpoint to father's claims on Perpetua. She and her fellow- prisoners are praying when suddenly Perpetua thinks of the boy, who had died at the age of seven: After a few days, whilst we were all praying, on a sudden, in the middle of our prayer, there came to me a word, and I named Dinocrates; and I was amazed that that name had never come into my mind until then, and I was grieved as I remembered his misfortune. And I felt myself immediately to be worthy, and to be called on to ask on his behalf. And for him 1 began earnestly to make supplication, and to cry with groaning to the Lord. Without delay, on that very night, this was shown to me in a vision. (Wallis 281-82) [Post dies paucos, dum uniuersi oramus, subito media oratione profecta est mihi uox, et nominaui Dinocraten: et obstipui quod numquam mihi in mentem uenisset nisi tunc; et dolui commemorata casus eius. et cognoui me statim dignam esse, et pro eo petere debere. et coepi de ipso orationem facere muHum, et ingemiscere ad Dominum. continuo ipsa nocte ostensum est mihi hoc. (Robinson 72)] Perpetua sees Dinocrates in a "gloomy place," but she cannot approach him because she is separated from him by a "large 123 interval" (Wallis 282). There is a pool o-f water in this gloomy place, and the seven-year old Dinocrates, who is "parched and very thirsty," stretches himself up in an attempt to ease his thirst, but the height o-f the pool's brim -foils the boy's ef-forts. The pool appears to be a -font, and the boy in need of baptism (cf. Robinson 29). His face is filthy and pale, and Perpetua can see on his face the hideous wound that caused him to die a repulsive death. Perpetua is distressed by the suffering of her brother, but she is also confident in the power of her prayers. She prays for him over a period of several days, and at last a third vision is "shown" to her. She sees her brother in a bright place, and he is now clean, well-dressed, and his lesion has been healed and replaced by a scar. Nor is he thirsty anymore; the brim of the pool is as low as his navel, and on the pool's edge is a goblet filled with water that never empties however long the boy drinks. After drinking as much as he wishes, the boy departs from the pool "to play joyously, after the manner of children. . . ." When Perpetua awakes, she has no trouble understanding that her prayers have been answered: "he was translated from the place of punishment." The third chapter, the last written by Perpetua herself, develops the theme of the first vision, in which Perpetua treaded on the head of the dragon. In the Argument, Perpetua is described as being "again tempted by her father" (Wallis 283). 124 It is now very close to the day set for Perpetua's execution, and her -father "worn out with su-f-fering," tears at his beard, throws himsel-f on his -face on the ground, and begins "to reproach his years, and to utter such words as might move all creation." Perpetua is again sorrowful, but juxtaposed with this temptation is a triumphant vision. The deacon Pomponius, not soldiers or guards, summons her to the amphitheatre: The day be-fore that on which we were to fight, 1 saw in a vision that Pomponius the deacon came hither to the gate of the prison, and knocked vehemently. I went out to him, and opened the gate for him. . . . And he said to me, 'Perpetua, we are waiting foryou; come!' And he held his hand to me, and we began to go through rough and winding places. (Uallis 283) CPridie quam pugnaremus, uideo in horomate hoc uenisse Pomponiurn diaconum ad ostium carceris, et pulsare uehementer. et exiui ad eum, et aperui ei . . . et dixit mihi: Perpetua, te exspectamus: ueni. et tenuit mihi manum, et coepimus ire per aspera loca et flexuosa. (Robinson 74, 76)1 They arrive breathless at the amphitheatre, where Perpetua is to wrestle with an Egyptian. Perpetua finds that she has the strength for the struggle:she finds herself transformed into a man. Furthermore, her trainers rub her with oil, which will make it difficult for the Egyptian to seize her, but the Egyptian himself rolls in the dust. They struggle, and the Egyptian tries to grasp her feet, but she is able to overcome him and, after he has fallen on his face, she treads on his head. Uhen Perpetua awakes she recognizes that she "was not to fight with beasts, but against the devil" (Uallis 284). The passage is linked to the earlier one in which Perpetua treads on the head of the dragon, 125 but, as Peter Dronke has pointed out, it is also linked to the temptation represented by her ■father's last visit to the prison: In his last prison-visit he throws himself to the ground (prosternere se in faciero. IX 2) and in this he resembles the Egyptian wrestler, who rolls himself in the dust, and later falls on his face The story of the martyrdom itself, the "day of their victory," is told by the redactor, who follows Perpetua by using the image of treading on the head of an opponent as a symbol for victory over fear and temptation. As the martyrs proceed to the the ampitheatre, Perpetua is calm and steadfast. She walks "with placid look and with step and gate [sic] as a matron of Christ, beloved of God; casting down the lustre of her eyes from the gaze of all" The Passion. like the Shepherd of Hermas. takes advantage of the allegorical possibilities of vision. Also like the Shepherd, the Passion concerns itself not with national but with personal eschatology. Furthermore, the Passion introduces a new element. Saturus and Perpetua are the first visionaries to see contemporary individuals in the otherworld, not members of 126 classes, but named individuals. Saturus, whose vision of heaven is also recounted in the Passion, sees Perpetua and others who were soon to be martyred. And Perpetua sees Dinocrates. The visions that will be composed by medieval authors take advantage both of the allegorical possibilities of vision and the trend toward "personalizing” visions that is begun here in the Passion of Perpetua. CHAPTER VI THE MARRIAGE OF ALLEGORY AND "REALISM" The Shepherd o-f Hermas and the Passion o-f Perpetua illustrate two qualities that are to be important in later medieval visions of the otherworld. On the one hand, the visions were amenable to allegorizing. In particular, since the visions were often cast in the form of journeys, they were suitable for narratives of spiritual pilgrimages. On the other hand, with the dropping of the pseudonymous narrator, visions began to accumulate details that would create contemporary narrators. That is, since the visions were no longer attributed to biblical prophets or apostles, it was not always enough to simply place an account into the mouth of a narrator without giving information about that narrator. The history and credibility of the pseudonymous narrator will always have been established, but the redactor of a non-pseudonymous medieval visions had to provide such information himself. Thus dropping pseudonymity forced the writer to create characters and plots in order to provide credibility, which formerly flowed from the authority of the putative narrator. For example, the redactor of a vision might appeal to the changed behavior of a returned visionary as evidence that his account was not to be dismissed. Thus, since 127 128 more context was necessary, a veneer of "realism" formed. Visions were filled with particulars and populated not only with classes of people but with named individuals. Visionaries were given histories, professions, relatives, homes. Visionaries had an existence that extends both before and after the experience of the vision. As both the Shepherd of Hermas and the Passion of Perpetua illustrate, this realism did not prevent the simultaneous development of the allegorical possibilities of the pseudo apocalypse. The allegorical elements of the visions in the Passion not only co-existed with the waking events of Perpetua's autobiography but were generated by those events. The same can be said of the Shepherd. The centuries following the composition of the Passion of Perpetua were marked both by the translation of genuine apocalypses from Greek into Latin1 and by the composition of numerous short pseudo-apocalypses. The evidence for the vigor of this vision tradition has been preserved in the Dialogues of 2 Gregory the Great. Composed in 593, the Dialogues contain numerous reports of otherworld visions. Usually brief, these accounts often merely document the fact that a vision took place without providing any details of what the visionary saw. Still, the details that are reported show that the visions are indebted to the tradition of the apocalypse and pseudo-apocalypse. But an examination of the visions in the Dialogues will demonstrate not 129 only the path through which visions were disseminated but also how the visions were read and what direction the visions were taking. Gregory confirms the fact that visions could be read allegorically) he continues the trend of enveloping the visions with the appearance of verisimilitude; and in the process of grappling with the problem of credibility, he legitimizes the visionary experiences of sinners. The visions are found mainly, but not exclusively, in the fourth book, which is a collection of miracles intended to demonstrate the existence of the soul and to explore its nature. But visions were also frequently counted among the miracles attributed to saints. And so the second book of the Dialogues. an account of the life of St. Benedict and the miracles attributed to him, includes a chapter that narrates a vision which is dependent, directly or indirectly, on the Visio Sancti Pauli. Benedict, who had been sleeping in a tower, arises before matins and goes to the window to pray: In the dead of night he suddenly beheld a flood of light shining down from above more brilliant than the sun, and with it every trace of darkness cleared away. Another remarkable sight followed. According to his own description, the whole world was gathered up before his eyes in what appeared to be a single ray of light. As he gazed at all this dazzling display, he saw the soul of Germanus, the Bishop of Capua, being carried by angels up to heaven in a ball of fire. (Zimmerman 105) tsubito intempesta noctis hora respiciens, vidit fusam lucem desuper cunctas noctis tenebras effugasse, tantoque splendore clarescere, ut diem vinceret lux ilia quae inter tenebras radiasset. Mira autem res valde in hac speculatione secuta est: quia, sicut post ipse narravit, omnis etiam mundus velut sub uno sol is 130 radio collectus, ante oculos ejus adductus est. Qui venerabilis Pater, dum intentam oculorum aciem in hoc splendore coruscae lucis infigeret, vidit German i Capuani episcopi an imam in sphaera ignea ab angel is in coelum ferr i. (PL 66: 198)3 This vision, brief as it is, has preserved in truncated form two elements from the Visio Sancti Pauli: an all-encompassing view of the earth is combined with the going-out of the good soul. To these traditional elements is added specificity: the good soul, anonymous in the Visio Sancti Pauli. is given a local habitation and a name. In this case, providing a name, a profession, and a habitation for the soul does more than lend an air of verisimilitude to the brief narrative. Benedict's ability to identify the soul is a crucial element because it permits an epilogue that confirms the inspired nature of his vision. A messenger is dispatched to Capua, where he discovers that Bishop Germanus has died at the moment of Benedict's vision. The vision is thus imbued with the appearance of credibility through two means. The vision was, of course, either experienced by or attributed to St. Benedict, the venerable author of the Rule of St. Benedict, but the credibility of the vision is further strengthened, firs t, by specificity of detail and, secondly, by the "proof" provided after the vision's end. It is these two / means that are later used repeatedly to establish the credibility of visions not placed in the mouths of saints, indeed of visions placed in the mouths of sinners. The particular outcome of this vision, the simultaneous or subsequent death of an individual 131 seen in the otherworld, was an especially frequent means of confirming a vision.4 This vision, brief as it is, can provide us with more than a simple example of the trend toward specificity. It is followed by a commentary in which Gregory both explicates the vision and tries toexplain how a vision takes place. As in the Visio SanctiPauli, the apparent smallness of the earth has a spiritual meaning. But perhaps it would be more accurate to say that a spiritual meaning takes the form of a shrunken world. Benedict in fact does not see the entire world in one panoramic glance. Instead, he "sees" a spiritual truth that takes on the formof a diminished earth. Imbued with spiritual sight, he sees a metaphor: talll creation is bound to appear small to a soul that sees the Creator. Once it beholds a little of His light, it finds all creatures small indeed. The light of holy contemplation enlarges and expands the mind in God until it stands above the world. In fact, the soul that sees Him rises even above itself, and as it is drawn upward in His light all its inner powers unfold. Then, when it looks down from above, it sees how small everything is that was beyond its grasp before. . . . how else was it possible for this man to behold the ball of fire and watch the angels on their return to heaven except with light from God? Why should it surprise us, then, that he could see the whole world gathered up before him after this inner light had lifted him so far above the world? Of course, in saying that the world was gathered up before his eyes I do not mean that heaven and earth grew small, but that his spirit was enlarged. Absorbed as he was in God, it was now easy for him to see all that lay beneath God. In the light outside that was shining before his eyes, there was a brightness which reached into his mind and lifted his sp irit heavenward, showing him the insignificance of all that lies below. (Zimmerman 106) 132 [quia animae videnti Creatorem, angusta est amnis creatura. Quamlibet etenim parum de luce Creatoris aspexerit, breve ei -fit omne quod creatum estt quia ipsa luce visionis intimae, mentis laxatur sinus, tantumque expanditur in Deo, ut superior existat mundo: ■fit vero ipsa videntis anima etiam super semetipsam. Cumque in Dei lumine rapitur super se, in interioribus ampliatur; et dum se sub se conspicit exaltata, comprehendit quam breve s it quod comprehendere humiliata non poterat. Vir ergo Dei, qui intuens globum igneum, angelos quoque ad coelum redeuntes videbat, haec procul dubio cernere nonnisi in Dei lumine poterat. Quid itaque mi rum si mundum ante se collectum vidit, qui sublevatus in mentis lumine extra mundum -fuit? Quod autem collectus mundus ante ejus oculas dicitur, non coelum et terra contracts est, sed videntis animus est dilatatus, qui in Deo raptus videre sine difficultate potuit omne quod in-fra Deum est. In ilia ergo luce quae exterioribus oculis fulsit, lux interior in mente -fuit, quae videntis animum cum ad superiors rapuit, ei quam angusta essent omnia in-feriora monstravit. (PL 46: 200)3 In Gregory's commentary, the external light becomes the analogue, the visible or material sign, of the light which is truly important, the spiritual light which illuminates St. Benedict's soul, permitting him to see and understand a spiritual truth that itself takes the form of an analogue. He "sees" an idea. Even a vision experienced by a layman could be read in a metaphorical or an allegorical manner. In the "Vision of a Certain Soldier,” the visionary, like St. Benedict, is not dreaming. Instead, he experiences rapture brought on by a serious illness, for he is so near death that his soul is drawn out of his body (PL 77: 384: ad extrema pervenit. Qui eductus in corpore exanimis jacuit . . . ). While the soldier lay senseless in his trance, 133 Chle saw a river whose dark waters were covered by a mist o-f vapors that gave off an unbearable stench. Over the river was a bridge. It led to pleasant meadows beyond, covered by green grass and dotted with richly scented flowers. These meadows seemed to be the gathering place for people dressed in white robes. The fragrant odors pervading the region were a delight for all who lived there. Everyone had his own dwelling, which gleamed with brilliant light. One house of magnificent proportions was still under construction and the bricks used were made of gold. But no one could tell for whom the house was meant. There were houses also along the banks of the river, some of which were infected by the vapors and stench rising from the river, while others remained untouched. On this bridge saint and sinner underwent a final test. The unjust would slip off and fall into the dark, foul waters. The just, unhampered by sin, could walk over it, freely and without difficulty, to the beautiful meadows on the other side. [Zimmerman 23?) [Aiebat enim . . . quia pons erat, sub quo niger atque caliginosus foetoris intolerabi1 is nebulam exhalans fluvius decurrebat. Transacto autem ponte, amoena erant prata atque virentia, odoriferis herbarum floribus exornata, in quibus albatorum hominum conventicula esse videbantur. Tantusque in eodem loco odor suavitatis inerat, ut ipsa suavitatis fragrantia illic deambulantes habitantesque satiaret. Ibi mansiones diversorum singulae, magnitudine lucis plenae. Ibi quaedam mirae potentiae aedificabatur domus, quae aureis videbatur laterculis construi, sed cujus esset, non potuit agnosci. Erant vero super ripam praedicti fluminis nonnulla habitacula, sed alia exurgentis foetoris nebula tangebantur, alia autem exurgens foetor e flumine minime tangebat. Haec vero erat in praedicto ponte probatio ut quisquis per eum vellet injustorum transire, in tenebrosum foetentemque fluvium laberetur: justi vero quibus culpa non obsisteret, securo per eum gressu ac libero ad loca amoena pervenirent. (PL 77* 384-85)1 The description of heaven—pleasant green fields filled with flowers and sweet smells and inhabited by men dressed in white— is not unusual. Nor is it an original idea that there are mansions in heaven. The idea that it is necessary to cross a 134 noisome river is likewise a borrowed element.** What is noteworthy is the commentary that -follows, -for in it Gregory allegorizes the scene. Peter, his interlocutor, asks, "But how is it that the house in the beaut i-f ul meadow was constructed with bricks of gold? It seems rather ridiculous that in eternity we should still need metals of this kind* (Zimmerman 241; PL 77: 385, 388: Quid est hoc, ouaeso te. ouod in arooenis locis cujusdam domus laterculis aureis aedificari videbatur? Ridiculum est valde. si credimus quod in ilia vita adhuc metal 1 is talibus eoeamus) . Are there literal houses in heaven? Gregory/s answer shows that the objects described are figures used to signify spiritual truths. Just as Benedict was comprehending an idea when he "saw* the shrunken earth, so the soldier is perceiving an idea when he *sees" the mansions. Gregory's reply shows that Peter is right in wondering whether such a thing as literal metal will be present in the otherworld: Surely no one with common sense will take the phrase literally. We may not know the person for whom the mansion was constructed, yet from some details of the vision we can tell what kind of good works he must have performed in his lifetime. Since the reward of eternal glory is won by generosity in almsgiving, it seems quite possible to build an eternal dwelling with gold. (Zimmerman 241) CQuis hoc, si sanum sapit, intel 1igat? Sed per hoc quod illic ostensum est, quisquis ille est cui mansio ista construitur, aperte datur intel 1igi quid est quod hie operatur. Nam qui praemium aeternae lucis eleemosynarum largitate promerebitur, nimirum constat, quia auro aedificat mansionem suam, (PL 77: 388)1 It is figurative gold and a figurative house. 135 The action, too, is allegorical. Gregory adds a description o-f the people who are carrying the bricks o-f gold -for the i construction o-f the house. They are old people and little children, a -fact that shows metaphorically that "our eternal dwellings in heaven are built by those who bene-fit from our almsgiving here on earth" (Zimmerman 241; PL 77: 388: Qua ex re col 1ioitur. ouia hi quibus hie oietas facta est. iosi i11 ic operatores esse videbantur) . A similar message is expressed by the next story, the account of Deusdedit, for, reports Gregory, "Someone had received a revelation about him in which he saw a dwelling being built for him by workmen who engaged in their work only on Saturdays" (Zimmerman 242; PL 77: 388: de quo alter per revel ationem vidi t ouod ejus domus aedificabatnr [sic ]. sed in ea constructors sui solo die sabbati videbantur ooerari). The visionary later found out that Deusdedit on each Saturday gave to the poor all that he can spare after purchasing necessities for himself. Gregory continues his allegorical explication in response to further questions from Peter, who asks why some of the houses by the river are "touched by the fumes and mists, and others were not? And then, why did he see a bridge and a river?" (Zimmerman 242; PL 77: 388: ouod ouorumdam habitacula foetoris nebula tanoebantur. ouorumdam vero tanoi non ooterant: vel quid ouod pontem. quid est ouod fluvium vidit?) . Gregory replies: Ue arrive at a true understanding through images. For example, the just were seen passing over a bridge to a 136 beautiful meadow, because the road that leads to eternal life is narrow. The soldier saw a river of polluted water because the noisome stream of carnal vices continues daily to flow on toward the abyss. The dwellings of some were touched by the mist and stench form [sic] the river, others were free of this defilement, because there are always some who perform good deeds zealously, yet are stained by sins of the flesh through the pleasures of thought. (Zimmerman 242-43) CEx rerum . . . imaginibus pensamus merita causarum. Per pontem quippe ad amoena loca transire justos aspex i t : Quia anousta valde est semita ouae due it ad vitam (Matth. VII, 14). Et foetentem fluvium decurrentem vidit, quia ad ima defluit quotidie carnaliurn hie putredo vitiorum. Et quorumdam habitacula fetoris nebula tangebat, quorumdam vero ab ea tangi non poterant; quia sunt plerique qui multa jam bona opera faciunt, sed tamen ad hue carnal ibus v itiis in cogitationis delectatione tanguntur. (PL 77: 388)3 Gregory's commentary asks the reader to look upon the visionary otherworld not as a literal place but as an iroaoo: a representation or similitude. To some medieval readers, otherworld visions may have been read as literal descriptions of heaven and hell, but Gregory's commentaries provide evidence of the existence of a metaphorical reading.6 Gregory provides evidence of the increasing specificity of visions. He also illustrates that visions could be read metaphorically or allegorically. Finally, he demonstrates that a new kind of narrator had replaced the patriarchs, prophets and apostles. Uhile many visionaries were similar to St. Benedict, who had prepared for his vision through contemplation and prayer, others were sinners struck down by illness or death. Gregory provides a rationale that legitimizes the visionary experiences 137 o-f such sinners. Peter, Gregory's interlocutor, asks Gregory to explainwhy "some are called out o-f this world by mistake and come back to life again” (Zimmerman 237; PL 77: 381: quod nonnul 1 i ouasi per errorem extrahuntur g. cornore. ita ut -fact: exanimes redeant. et eorum ouisoue audisse se dicat, ouia inse non fueri t qui erat jussus deduci? ): Whenever this occurs . . . a careful consideration will reveal that it was not an error, but a warning. In His unbounded mercy, the good God allows some souls to return to their bodies shortly after death, so that the sight of hell might at last teach them to fear the eternal punishments in which words alone could not make them believe. (Zimmerman 237) [Hoc cum f it . . . s i bene perpenditur, non error, sed admonitio est. Superna enim pi etas ex magna misericordiae suae largitate disponit, ut nonnulli etiam post exitum repente ad corpus redeant, et tormenta inferni, quae audita non crediderant, saltern visa pertimescant. (PL 77: 381)] To support this explanation, Gregory describes the salutary effect of a vision experienced by a Spanish monk named Peter who died but came back to life and declared that he had seen hell with all its torments and countless pools of fire. He also mentioned seeing some of this world's outstanding men tossing in the flames. When his turn came to be cast into the fire, an angel in shining white robes suddenly appeared to prevent him from being buried in the burning mass. 'Leave this place,' he said, 'and consider well how you are to live henceforth.' (Zimmerman 238) [inferni supplicia atque innumera loca flammarum se vidisse testabatur. Qui etiam quosdam hujus saeculi potentes in eisdem flammis suspensos7 se vidisse narrabat. Qui cum jam ductus esset ut in i11 as et ipse mergeretur, subito angel urn corusci habitus apparuisse fatebatur, qui eum in ignem mergi prohiberet. Cui etiam dixit: Egredere, et qualiter tibi posthac vivendum s it, cautissime attende. (PL 77, col. 381)] 138 Tours of hell are a boon granted to sinners by a merciful God. Peter returns to life and adopts such an ascetic regime that "even had he kept silent, his penitential fasts and night watches would have been eloquent witnesses to his terrifying visit to hell and his deep fear of its dreadful torments" (Zimmerman 238; PL 77: 381: Tantisaue se postmodum jejuni is vioi1iisoue constrinxit. ut inferni eum vidisse et pertimuisse tormenta. etiamsi taceret 1inoua. conversatio looueretur) . This explanation of the genesis of admonitory otherworld visions assumes and calls for a very different type of narrator than those of the apocalypses which otherwise influenced the content and structure of the medieval visions. And once again • credibility must proceed from the narrative itself, not from the authority of a holy narrator. Details provide the appearance of verisimilitude. Gregory tells us that he was told the story from the monk Sclavonion, who heard the story first-hand from Peter. Of the visionary himself, we are told of his birthplace and that he had lived with Sclavonionin the desert Evasa. And, of course, the visionary's behavior after his experience is testimony to the compelling nature of the vision. That establishing the credibility of a vision was crucial is apparent from the writing of Gregory himself, who is aware of the possibility of error. In his Dialogues, he warns that not all dreams are inspired, for they arise from many sources! It is important to realize . . . that dreams come to the soul in six ways. They are generated either by a 139 ■full stomach or by an empty one, or by illusions, or by our thoughts combined with illusions, or by revelations, or by our thoughts combined with revelations. The -first two ways we all Know -from personal experience. The other -four we -find mentioned in the Bible. (Zimmerman 261>8 [sex modis tangunt animum imagines somniorum. Aliquando namque somnia ventris plenitudine vel inanitate, aliquando vero illusione, aliquando cogitatione simul et illusione, aliquando revelatione, aliquando autem cogitatione simul et revelatione generantur. (PL 77: 409)3 Since it is di-f-ficult to determine the cause of a dream, a person i must be cautious before trusting one. Holy men, because they have a certain "inner sensitivity," are able to distinguish between revelation and illusion, but the utmost attentiveness and vigilance are required. Even the fact that a dream contains a prophecy that is later borne out by events may be no guarantee that a dream is rooted in inspiration, for the "master of deceit" may be able to entrap the soul because he is "clever enough to foretell many things that are true in order finally to capture the soul by but one falsehood" (Zimmerman 262; PL 77: 412: Sancti . . . viri inter il1 us I ones atque revelationes iosas visionum voces aut imagines ouodam intimo saoore discernunt. ut sciant vel quid a bono soiritu oercioiant. vel quid ab i1lusione oatiantur. Nam si eroa haec mens cauta non fuerit. per deceptorem quam solet multa vera praedicere. ut ad extremum) . Gregory provides evidence of a skepticism toward revelation that is present throughout the Middle Ages. It is therefore not surprising that this awareness of the doubtful nature of dreams should prompt 140 redactors of medieval visions to wrap them within narratives that bring credibility to the revelations. Within half a century after Gregory composed his dialogue,? the Irish monk Furseus experienced a revelation in which he, like the soldier and like Peter in Gregory's Dialogues, seemingly died but shortly returned to life with an account of an otherworld journey. Even though this reworking of the otherworld tour had been put into the mouth of a saint, Bede was at pains to adduce worldly evidence to lend authority to the teller and his tale. The burn marks with which Furseus returns provide visible evidence of the veracity of his account. His reactions when telling the vision are also convincing. First of all, he will not tell the vision to just anyone but only to those "who questioned him about them, because they desired to repent."*® The vision is treated as a divine revelation that is not to be cheapened by light or frequent telling. Secondly, Bede has, through testimony only once removed from the event, an account of a venerable man who saw Furseus sweating as he told the vision, so compelling was the experience: An aged brother is still living in our monastery who is wont to relate that a most truthful and pious man told him that he had seen Fursa himself in the kingdom of the East Angles and had heard these visions from his own mouth. He added that although it was during a time of severe winter weather and a hard frost and though Fursa sat wearing only a thin garment, yet as he told his story, he sweated as though it were the middle of summer, either because of the terror or else the joy which his recollections aroused. (Colgrave 275) 141 CSuperest adhuc frater qui dam senior monasterii nostri, qui narrare solet dixisse sibi quendam mu1 turn ueracem ac religiosum hominem, quod ipsum Furseum viderit in prouincia Orientaliurn Anglorum, illasque uisiones ex ipsius ore audierit, adiciens quia tempus hiemis fuerit acerrimum et glacie constrictum, cum sedens in tenui ueste uir ita inter dicendum propter magnitudinem memorati timoris uel suauitatis, quasi in mediae aestatis caumate sudauerit. But even as the vision is enveloped in details that lend it an air o-f verisimilitude, it also is wrapped round with metaphor. As in the vision o-f St. Benedict, the visionary is able to look back and, from his high vantage point, see the entire world. But the visionary takes the detail from the Visio Sancti Pauli rather than from Gregory's Dialogues. Furseus's vision retains the angelic command that the visionary look back, even though the dialogue between visionary and angel that prompted the command is not similarly retained. Furthermore, as in the Visio. the world is enveloped by flames. (In the vision of St. Benedict it is unclear whether flames surround the world.) But this time the world seen by the visionary is described as a "dark valley" (ual1em tenebrosam) . its darkness a sign that Furseus is receiving an illuminating revelation that allows him to rise above the spiritual darkness usually experienced by those trapped by the world: When Fursa had been taken up to a great height, he was told by the angels who were conducting him to look back at the world. As he looked down, he saw some kind of dark valley immediately beneath him and four fires in the air, not very far from one another. When he asked the angels what these fires were, he was told that they were the fires which were to kindle and consume the world. (Colgrave 273) 142 [Cum ergo in altum esset elatus, iussus est ab angel is, qui eum ducebant, respicere in mundum. At Ilie oculos in inferiora deflectens, uidit quasi uallem tenebrosam subtus se in imo positam, uidit et quattuor ignes in aere non multo abinuicem spatio distantes. Et interrogans angelos, qui essent hi ignes, audiuit hos esse ignes qui mundum succendentes essent consumturi. . . . In the Visio Sancti Pauli. the visionary's guide interprets the -fire metaphorically as the 'unrighteousness that is mingled by the princes of sinners." The flames in Furseus's vision likewise are given a metaphorical interpretation, but a more elaborate one. An angel accompanying Furseus explains that One of them is falsehood, when we do not fulfil our promise to renounce Satan and all his works as we undertook to do at our baptism; the second is covetousness, when we put the love of riches before the love of heavenly things; the third is discord, when we do not fear to offend our neighbours even in trifling matters; the fourth is injustice, when we think it a small thing to despoil and defraud the weak. Gradually these fires grew together and merged into one vast conflagration. [unum mendacii, cum hoc quod in baptismo abrenuntiare nos Satanae et omnibus operibus eius promisimus minime implemus; alterum cupiditatis, cum mundi diuitias amori caelestium praeponimus; tertium dissensionis, cum animos proximorum etiam in superuacuis rebus offendere non formidamus; quartum impietatis, cum infirmiores spoliare et eis fraudem facere pro nihilo ducimus. Crescentes uero paulatim ignes usque adinuicem sese extenderunt, atque in inmensam adunati sunt flammam. . . . (Colgrave 272)3 In the course of "spiritualizing" Furseus's vision, the narrator gives the flames an eschatological meaning that operates on two levels. Like the beast that Hermas encounters in his fourth vision, the four flames which menace the world represent both an apocalyptic threat and an individual one. The visionary 143 himself is imperiled by the four flames. As the flames draw close, the visionary appeals to his guide, who reassures him by explaining that each man will be "burned" only by those flames that represent the sins in which he "burned" in life: That which you did not kindle will not burn you; for although the conflagration seems great and terrible, it tests each man according to his deserts, and the evil desires of everyone will be burned away in this fire. For just as in the body a man burns with illic it pleasures, so when he is free from the body, he makes due atonement by burning. (Colgrave 273) [Quod non incendisti . . . non ardebit in te; nam etsi terrib ilis iste ac grandis esse rogus uidetur, tamen iuxta merita operum singulos examinat; quia uniuscuiusque cupiditas in hoc igne ardebit. Sicut enim quis ardet in corpore per inlicitam uoluptatem, ita solutus corpore ardebit per debitam poenam. (Colgrave 272)1 This example of the tendency of medieval writers to "spiritualize" the visions arises from a belief that the flames of hell are psychological rather than physical or material. Alan E. Bernstein has documented "a perceptible, though fluctuating, current within the Latin theological tradition of a metaphorical or psychological interpretation of hell."** Origen was the first major Christian theologian to depict an incorporeal hellfire. In an explicat ion of Isaias 50: 11, "Ambulate in lumine ion is vestri. / Et in flammis quas succendistis." Origen describes an "internal and subjective" fire that is kindled by the sins of the individual. This psychological fire fueled by sin is analogous to the bodily "fevers" fueled by overeating. This psychological fire is also analogous to the fires "with which passions and 144 vices attack the soul, as 'when the soul burns with the -flames of love, or of zeal, or is gnawed by the fires of malice-'." Origen also explains the process in terms that are reminiscent of the judicial scene played out when the soul leaves the body: when the sins or "mental fuels are gathered in one place, 'the conscience is agitated and goaded by its own stimuli and functions as its own accuser and witness'" (Bernstein 516: Ipsa conscientia propr i is stimulis aoitatur et compunoitur. et sui ipsa efficitur accusatr ix et test is) . Bernstein adduces from Jerome, Ambrose, and Augustine further evidence for the belief that the fire of the otherworld is, at least in part, psychological or "metaphorical" (Bernstein 517). Jerome provides evidence through his complaint that "'many' hold the 'fire which will not be extinguished' to be the 'consciousness of sins, which torments [the soul] with suffering'" (Bernstein 517). Like Origen, Ambrose, who was apparently one of the "many," compares the flames kindled by sin to the "fevers” caused by overindulgence: Just as worms and fevers arise out of overeating, similarly, if someone does not boil down his sins, as for instance by some interval of sobriety or abstinence, but by mixing sins with sins he contracts as it were a certain indigestion of old and new transgressions, he will burn in his own fire and be consumed by his own worms. . . . The fire is that which the sorrow for the transgressions generates; the worm is that by which the sins of the irrational soul goad the mind and the senses of the culprit and devour certain viscera of the conscience, which, like worms, arise one from the other as if out of the body of the sinner. (Bernstein 517) 145 As Bernstein observes, "it is the sinner's own sense of guilt which torments the soul from within" (Bernstein 517). *n The City of God. Augustine, like Jerome, illustrates the fact that there were differing interpretions of the nature of the torments of hell. In his comments on the verse Vermis eorum non raorietur. / Et i on i s eorom non extinouetur (Isaias 66: 24), Augustine examines three positions: that both fire and worm torment the sp irit, that fire torments the spirit but the worm of "anguish" gnaws the sp irit, and that both fire and worm afflict the body. He favors the last interpretation. However, even this last interpretation allows for some spiritual suffering, for, "when the body is thus in pain, the soul also will be tortured with unavailing r e m o r s e . as for this fire and this worm, there are some who want to make both of them refer to the pains of the soul, not of the body. They say that those whose penitence is too late, and therefore ineffectual, those who have thus been separated from God, are burnt in the fire of the soul's sorrow and pain; and therefore, they maintain, /fire/ is quite appropriately used as a symbol for that burning pain. That is why the Apostle says, 'I f anyone is led astray, do I not burn with indignation?' They suppose that the 'worm' is to be taken in the same way; for, they say, the Scripture says, 'Like the moth in a garment, or the worm in timber, so does sorrow torment the heart of a man.' Those, on the other hand, who feel sure that in that punishment there will be pain of both soul and body declare that the body is burnt by the fire while the soul is, in a sense, gnawed by the 'worm' of sorrow. (Bettenson 984) Augustine finds the latter belief "more plausible" than the firs t, "inasmuch as it is obviously absurd to suppose that in that state either soul or body will be exempt from pain" 14 6 (Bettenson 984). But he proposes a third interpretation, that both -fire and worm torment the body, and that "the scriptural statement is silent about the pain of the soul for this reason, that, although it is not stated, it is taken as implied that when the body is thus in pain, the soul also will be tortured with unavailing remorse” (Bettenson 984). To support his interpretation, he adduces Ecclesiasticus 7: 19, vindicta earn is impi i ionis et vermis, arguing that the "reason for the addition of / the flesh7 can surely only be that the fire and the worm will be punishments of the body* (Bettenson 984). But, though he prefers to believe that both fire and worm torment the body, he is very tolerant of those who adopt the view that the fire is material, the worm spiritual: Well then, each one of us must choose as he thinks fit between those interpretations. He may ascribe the fire to the body, and the worm to the mind, the former literally and the latter metaphorically; or he may attribute both, in the literal sense, to the body. . . . he may think either that the worm, along with the fire, refers, in the literal sense, to the bodily punishment, or that it refers to the punishment of the soul, the word being used by a transference of sense from the material to the immaterial. (Bettenson 984- 85). He does not, however, accept the first reading, that both fire and worm are spiritual, for, the 'important thing is,” he argues, *that we should never believe that those bodies are to be such as to feel no anguish in the fire" (Bettenson 985). Augustine, then, prefers to believe that the torments of hell are material. Nevertheless, he does believe in one kind of 147 mataphorical fire. In his discussion of Isaiah 66i 24, he is considering the fire to which the resurrected will be subjected after the Last Judgment. But what of the conditions of sinful souls in "Hades" awaiting resurrection? Uhat is the nature of the torments endured by such souls? According to Augustine, they suffer metaphorical torments, not material ones: I should indeed have said that the spirits are destined to burn, without possessing any material body, just as the rich man was on fire in Hades when he said, 7I am tortured in those flames7; this is what I should have said, if I had not observed that the appropriate reply would be that the flames in the parable were of the same kind as the eyes which the rich man 7raised and saw Lazarus7, and the tongue on which he longed for a drop of water to be poured, and the finger of Lazarus which he suggested as the instrument of that boon—and yet these characters were souls without bodies. Thus the flames burning the rich man and the little drop of water he craved were of the same nature as visions seen in dreams, or in an ecstasy, when people perceive entities which are immaterial and yet display the likeness of material realities. For even when the subject himself appears in such visions There were, then, three traditions that would encourage the metaphorical or spiritual interpretation of the vision. First, a tradition existed—though no consensus—that the pains of the eternal hell itself would be, either in whole or in part, spiritual. Secondly, even those who believed that the torments would be material might nonetheless believe that the interim pains were metaphorical. Thirdly, the phenomenon of the vision was explained in terms of metaphor. 148 Furseus thus sees flames which a reader might have interpreted allegorically even without the benefit of commentary. St. Furseus is threatened by flames which represent individual sin and individual punishment, the "burning" of sin being itself the punishment bf sin, a punishment which follows the soul from life to afterlife. At first the illusion is created that Furseus himself will remain untouched by these "flames," as were so many earlier visionaries who were mere interlocuters whose questions permitted the guides to explicate and expound. The escorting angels part the fires so that he may pass. Like the Bishop Germanus, he is enveloped by fire yet untouched by it. Able to enter the otherworld, he tours it and witnesses the "burnings of wars against the just" (King I 423). But he is more than an onlooker. Furseus, like the good soul in Paul's vision, but unlike Paul himself, is put on trial. He is arraigned by the wicked spirits but defended by the good spirits. Apparently acquitted, he is able to see the "heavenly company," among whom are several "holy men of his own nation" whom he recognizes as former priests and with whom he speaks. But he is not permitted to see heaven itself. After the souls of the priests "had ended their communication," they "returned to heaven” (King I 423). Escorted by angels, the souls had come out to meet Furseus in some unnamed sub-heaven. Furseus is not yet ready to catch even a glimpse of heaven itself. His guides remain with him "to bring him back to the body" (King 1 423) and with them Furseus begins 14? to retrace his steps. But when Furseus begins to pass through the path the angels again open through the -flames, the euil spirits seized one o-f those who were burning in the -flames, hurled him at Fursa, hitting him and scorching his shoulder and jaw. Fursa recognized the man and remembered that on his death he had received some of his clothing. Earripientes inmundi spiritus unum de eis, quos in ignibus torrebant, iactauerunt in eum, et contingentes humerum maxillamque eius incenderunt; cognouitque hominem, et quia uestimentum eius morientis acceperit, ad memoriam reduxit. Commenting upon this event, one of the guiding angels transforms the events into visible signs of what is occurring within Furseus. Explains the angel, "You were burned by the fire you had Kindled. For if you had not received the property of this man who died in his sins, you would not have been burned by the fire of his punishment" Furseus forever after bears must also be interpreted as physical analogies for the mental turmoil and struggle experienced by Furseus. For after his soul is returned to its body, he is described as forever bearing "the marks of the burns which he had suffered while a disembodied spirit . . . It is marvellous to think that what he suffered secretly as a disembodied spirit showed openly upon his flesh" (Colgrave 275). The same methods of recording and interpreting vision illustrated by the Vision of Furseus likewise influence the 13 narration of a later vision, that of Dryhthelm, who according 150 to the common pattern, was ill -for several days, died at the . beginning o-f one night, but returned to li-fe the -following night. This is once again a vision enveloped in details designed to invest it with credibility. First, like Furseus, the revived visionary adopts a demeanor that is dramatic testimony to the intensity of his experience. The visionary had led a virtuous life but even so found cause for amendment in the course of his otherworld v isit. Upon his return he divides his goods among his wife, his sons, and the poor, then enters a monastery, there 1iving out his days in such penance of mind and body that even if he had kept silent, his life would have declared that he had seen many things to be dreaded or desired which had been hidden from other men. (Colgrave 489) Ctanta mentis et corporis contritione . . . ut multa ilium quae alios laterent uel horrenda uel desideranda uidisse, etiamsi lingua sileret, uita loqueretur (Colgrave 488)3 Plunging into the icy water of a river was one of the mortifications to which Dryhthelm subjected himself. Nor would he change out of his cold, wet clothes after standing in the riverpraying and singing. Instead, he would let them dry on his body. This regimen he followed even in winter: When in winter time the broken pieces of ice were floating round him, which he himself had had to break in order to find a place to stand in the river or immerse himself, those who saw him would say, 'Brother Dryhthelm,'—for that was his name—'however can you bear such bitter cold?' He answered them simply, for he was a man of simple wit and few words, 'I have known it colder.' And when they said, 'I t is marvellous that you are willing to endure such a hard and austere 151 life ', he replied, 'I have seen it harder.7 [Cumque tempore hiemali defluentibus circa eum semifractarum crust is glacierum, quas et ipse aliquando contriuerat, quo haberet locum standi siue inmergendi in fluuio, dicerent qui uidebanti 7Mirum, frater Drycthelme,7 In two laconic sentences the visionary impressively conveys the horror of an experience that makes his present sufferings seem mild. In addition to the visionary7s behavior, there are the reactions of auditors to lend authority to the vision. Dryhthelm receives the medieval equivalent of celebrity endorsements. The story was passed along to Bede by a priest-monk named Hemgils, who was an eminent priest and whose good works were worthy of his rank. He is still alive, living in solitude in Ireland and supporting his declining years on a scanty supply of bread and cold water. He would often visit this man and learn from him, by repeated questionings, what sort of things he saw when he was out of the body. . . . (Colgrave 497) tpresbyteratus etiam, quern bonis actibus adaequabat, gradu praeminens, qui adhuc superest et in Hibernia insula solitarius ultimam uitae aetatem pane cibario et frigida aqua sustentat. Hie saepius ad eundem uirum ingrediens, audiuit ab eo repetita interrogatione, quae et qualia essent quae exutus corpore uideret. ■ • • (Colgrave 496)3 A second appreciative auditor was King Aldfrith, "a most learned man in all respects," who "gladly and attentively" listened to 152 Dryhthelm's narrative whenever he was in the vicinity of the monastery; it was in -fact at his request that the visionary was admitted into the religious community (Colgrave 497). Dryhthelm's story thus repeatedly passed muster with men both learned and religious. The visionary was -familiar with the underworld journey recounted in Vergil's Aene id—he quotes a line from an underworld journey in that book—14 but most of the content of his vision is drawn from the Judaeo-Christian visions of the otherworld. Dryhthelm has a guide, an angelic being with "shining countenance and . . . bright robes" (Colgrave 489), who reveals to him two places where the sinful are punished and two where the virtuous 15 are rewarded. Dryhthelm sees such traditional oppressive conditions and hellish torments as darkness and flames arising out of a pit, the gusts of fire "full of human souls which, like sparks flying upward with the smoke, were now tossed on high and now, as the vaporous flames fell back, were sucked down into the depths" (Colgrave 491). In paradise he sees a field filled with flowers, sweet odors, men in white rejoicing. The Vision of Dryhthelm would be better described as admonitory than as allegorical. After seeing the first place of torment, Dryhthelm mistakenly believes that he is in hell, whose "intolerable torments" he has heard men describe (Colgrave 491). But his guide, reading his thoughts, tells him that he is in error. The message is clean hell is very much more terrible 153 than Dryhthelm—or the reader—has imagined. The -first torment is already intolerable, but there is worse to come. The pattern of error is repeated when the guide leads Dryhthelm from the darkness of the second place of punishment to the light of the first place of reward. Just as Dryhthelm mistakenly believed that the first region of torment was hell, so here he confounds these "abodes of the blessed spirits" with the "kingdom of heaven” (Colgrave 493, 495). Again his guide reads his mind and corrects him. And, just as Dryhthelm/s earlier mistake served to impress upon the reader the horror of hell, so this error impresses upon the reader the fact that the joys of heaven must be great indeed. And indeed Dryhthelm now sees before him a "much more gracious light than before" (Colgrave 495). However, even though nothing in the Vision of Dryhthelm directs the reader to interpret the otherworld descriptions as metaphor, the subsequent history of two elements peculiar to the vision provides evidence that at least some readers were reading allegorically regardless of the author/s intentions. First, an explanation of a punishment is reworked so that it is linked with a sin that would have caused motion and emotion like that of the torment. Dryhthelm/s guide leads him to a valley divided into a hot region and a cold one where sinners are punished by being hurled back and forth between the two regions: It tthe valley] lay on our left and one side of it was exceedingly terrible with raging fire, while the other was no less intolerable on account of the violent hail and icy snow which was drifting and blowing everywhere. 154 Both sides were -full of the souls of men which were apparently tossed from one side to the other in turn, as if by the fury of the tempest. When the wretched souls could no longer endure the fierceness of the terrific heat, they leapt into the midst of the deadly cold; and when they could find no respite there, they jumped back only to burn once again in the midst of the unquenchable flames. (Colgrave 489, 491) Cquae [vail is] ad leuam nobis sita unum latus flammis feruentibus nimium terribile, alterum furenti grandine ac frigore niuium omnia perflante atque uerrente non minus intolerabile praeferebat. Vtrumque autem erat animabus hominum plenum, quae uicissim hue inde uidebantur quasi tempestatis impetu iactari. Cum enim uim feruoris inmensi tolerare non possent, prosiliebant miserae in medium rigoris infesti; et cum neque ibi quippiam requiei inuenire ualerent, resiliebant rursus urendae in medium flammaraum inextinguibi1ium. (Colgrave 488, 490)3 This valley is the place where those who delayed confession until death must suffer until the day of judgment, when they will be permitted to enter the kingdom of heaven. The tormented are simply sinners in general; no particular crime is specified. But this motif of alternate cold and heat is linked by later writers with a sin for which the punishment seems to be a metaphorical expression of the sin itself. For example, in the Poema Morale. this torment is reserved for those "who were of unsteadful thoughts, and made vows to God which they would not perform, those who began good works and would not complete them."1* The link between sin and torment is the equivalent of the idea that the fire which torments sinners is in fact the "burning" of sin within them. Similarly, the author of the later Vision of Tundale will allegorize a confrontation between visionary and demonic spirits 155 and his rescue -from them. The Tundale passage appears to be dependent on an episode in which Dryhthelm's "conductor* has led him to a pit. The visionary's angelic guide, whose "bright glow and coat" had provided the only light and guidance in that dark place, then vanishes, leaving Dryhthelm to face the demons on his own. The earlier Furseus also had been threatened by demonic spirits, but he was never deserted by his guides. Dryhthelm remains there in fear, not knowing what he should do, where he should turn, or what will happen to him. As he lingers there fearfully, he witnesses a scene like that in the Visio Sancti Pauli;17 I suddenly heard behind my back the sound of wild and desperate lamentation, accompanied by harsh laughter as though a rude mob were insulting their captured foes. As the noise grew clearer and finally reached me, I beheld a crowd of evil spirits, amid jeers and laughter, dragging five human souls, wailing and shrieking, into the midst of darkness. [audio subitum post terga soniturn inmanissimi fletus ac miserrimi, simul et cachinnum crepitantem quasi uulgi indocti captis hostibus insultantis. Vt autem sonitus idem clarior redditus ad me usque peruenit, considero turbam malignorum spirituum, quae quinque animas hominum merentes heiulantesque, ipsa multum exultans et cachinnans, medias i11 as trahebat in tenebras. . . . While that rout of evil spirits drags the souls into the pit, another rout rises up and surrounds the visionary: Being thus surrounded on all sides by foes and black darkness, I cast my eyes in every direction to seee if there was any help or way of escape anywhere; and then there appeared behind me, on the road by which 1 had come, something like a bright star glimmering in the darkness which gradually grew and came rapidly towards 156 me. On its approach all the hostile spirits who were seeking to seize me with their tongues scattered and ■fled. (Colgrave 493)18 [Qui cum undiqueuersum hostibus et caecitate tenebrarum conclusus, hue illucque oculos circumferrem, si -forte alicunde quid auxilii quo saluarer adueniret, apparuit retro- uia qua ueneram quasi -fulgor stellae micantis inter tenebras, qui paulatim crescens, et ad me ocius -festinans, ubi adpropinquauit, dispersi sunt et au-fugerunt omnes qui me -fore ip ibus rapere quaerebant spiritus in-festi. (Colgrave 492)1 Thisexperience is later explained by the guide as a test: "When I left you for a time, I did so in order to find out what your future would be* (Colgrave 497).- However, in the hands of the Tundale visionary, repeated episodes of abandonment and rescue are woMfed^tiiPta a ptffern ^fiirt tuwre the-insioh- l^to‘ran^lT^tonr of.mercy. Linked with the allegory of mercy in Tundale is the notion that the ways of God are inexplicable. The Vision of Dryhthelm. too, reflects the inexplicable. For example, Dryhthelm sees no door in the wall, its length and height seemingly endless, that surrounds paradise; but *we suddenly found ourselves on top of it, by what means I know not* (Colgrave 493). Similarly, the vision over, Dryhthelm suddenly finds himself *by what means I know not, alive and in the world of men” (Colgrave 497). The Vision of Tundale includes several events which the visionary finds inexplicable but which become metaphors for the expression of mercy, which would not, after a ll, be mercy unless it abrogated the rational demands of justice. 157 The fact that some later writers read certain motifs metaphorically does not, of course, prove that Dryhthelm intended such interpretations or even that his contemporaries would have perceived the metaphorical possibilities of the vision. As Peter Dinzelbacher observes, one must distinguish allegoresis—the interpretation supplied by a reader—from allegory—the presence of which is intended by the author or redactor of a vision.19 But the interpretations provided by the redactors of the visions of St. Benedict, the soldier, Peter, and Furseus, suggest that a reader would have been open to such possibilities. Yet it would be a mistake to press the point too far. Visions were written for many reasons and were read for many reasons. Nevertheless, the later history of these motifs demonstrates that Augustine's and Gregory's theories of the nature of visions and Origen's, Anselm's, even Augustine's, theories of the nature of the otherworld permitted visions to be both written and read as metaphor. CHAPTER VII "REALISM* IN TWO 0THERWORLD VISIONS: TUNDALE AND EYNSHAM The previous chapter elucidated the ideas that encouraged the allegorical reading of otherworld visions and demonstrated the responses to those ideas. These impulses to interpret the torments and rewards of the otherworld in, at least in part, metaphorical terms survived into the twelfth century and beyond. In the twelfth century the most common belief was that sinners suffer both material and spiritual torments in hell, an interpretation which allowed for both literal and metaphorical descriptions of the torments of hell. The idea is found, for example, in Pope Innocent I ll 's On the Misery of the Human Condition. Even before death, the sinner suffers not only physical but psychological torments, in which the sin itself is the agent of punishment. In an explication of Wisdom 11: 17—by what things a man sins, by the same also he is tormented— Innocent enumerates the destructive effects of sinning upon the sinner: Pride inflates, envy gnaws, avarice goads, wrath inflames, gluttony chokes, lechery destroys, lying ensnares, murder defiles. So, too, other vices have their portents, for the sinful delights which entice men are the very instruments of God's punishment. 158 15 ? Innocent is partly describing the physical degeneration caused by sinful behavior, but he is also describing the psychological torment of the unhappy sinner, for whom "the worm of conscience never dies, and reason's light is never put out" (Howard 21). Psychological as well as physical torments are present at every stage of a sinner's existence, both in his progress through life and during his exit from it. Just as the active sinner suffers physically and psychologically from his sins, so too the sinner on the verge of death must face both bodily and mental torment (Howard 48-69). Finally, Innocent describes the damned in hell as suffering both internally and externally. The sinful will be tormented by worms and by fire: "Double for both: a worm and fire inside him which gnaws and burns the heart, and an exterior worm and fire which gnaws and burns the body" (Howard 72). The interior worm is a "worm of conscience," which will devastate sinners in three ways: "it will trouble them with memories, disturb them with repentance, and torture them with anguish" (Howard 72). Such double torments are found in the visions as well, where gnawing worms and burning fires, as well as of other torments, are sometimes literal punishments, sometimes psychological ones which the visionary is compelled to describe through analogy because of the inherent limitations of language. But the spiritualizing of the visions went forward even when torments were described literally. It was not necessary for a 160 medieval reader to interpret the otherworld in metaphorical terms in order to perceive allegorical meaning in visionary journeys. As the bestiary tradition demonstrates, a literal phenomenon could carry metaphorical meaning because of its very nature. While the descriptions of animals may seem fanciful to us today, the meaning perceived in animal behavior and anatomy reveals a belief that, just as all things are written for our instruction, so all things are made for our instruction. Theories of cosmology similarly reflect the belief that the structure of the o universe mirrors the nature of God,* This analogical habit of mind could likewise govern the interpretation of visions in which an otherworld is described in the most concrete terms. One such tangible otherworld is found in the Vision of Tundale. which was recorded in Latin prose in 1149. The vision was immensely popular, both in Latin and in the many vernaculars into which it was translated. Among the translations is an English metrical version that was composed near the end of the fourteenth century.3 In a study of this English version, Leo J. Hines has raised the question of whether the vision can be read allegorically. He answers with a very qualified 'perhaps', for any more specific answer would, he says, require a "reconstruction" of the 4 "understanding of a fourteenth-century English audience." He attempts a partial reconstruction by amassing details about the iconographic background of various images, such as the tree and the arraigning demons. But such an investigation -focuses our attention on each individual passage without encouraging us to see the poem as a whole. The reader of Tundale cannot help feeling that something is happening on a larger scale, that meaning is emanating from the plot of the poem. But at first that larger meaning seems elusive, for, notwithstanding Hines's efforts to identify allegorical passages, the poem lacks the more obvious accoutrements of allegory. The protagonist, for example, is a real individual rather than a personification. Tundale represents no abstraction. He is not, to borrow a phrase from Erich Auerbach, an "attribute, virtue, capacity, power, or historical institution.”** He is not reason or will or human urn oenus. Nor are the other characters in the poem personifications. The setting, too, is real. The otherworld in which Tundale travels is a literal one, and the path that takes Tundale through the geography of the otherworld is not described allegorically. Nor is his destination a figurative castle. The vision is a real, not a literary event, and the torments and rewards Tundale observes in the otherworld are not metaphorical. But there is an alternative to Hines's method of attempting to isolate the allegorical level in Tundale. Erich Auerbach has traced the history of the word fioura and proposed a figural reading of another vision of the otherworld, that of Dante. In Auerbach's formulation, a figural interpretation of an individual's experiences is compatible with the historicity of 162 that individual. In -fact, the allegorical significance of a fioura is actually rooted in the historicity of the individual. Such an approach assigns to each life a "place in the providential history of the world" that gives that life meaning but nevertheless preserves the particularity of the individual (Auerbach 70). In Auerbach's view, "the literal meaning or historical reality of a figure stands in no contradiction to its profounder meaning, but precisely "figures" it; the historical reality is not annulled, but confirmed and fulfilled by the deeper meaning” (Auerbach 73). Thus, Auerbach argues, in the Commedia. Dante does not destroy or weaken the earthly nature of his characters, but captures the fullest intensity of their individual earthly-historical being and identifies it with the ultimate state of things. (Auerbach 71) Or, in the words of Peter Dronke, figural allegory allowEsl for the simultaneous presentation of vividly individual creations and hidden meanings—meanings that do not conflict with the perception of individuality but are consubstantial with it.* Figural allegory, then, allows for a character like Tundale, who is realistic and historical, yet whose highly individual experiences are subsumed into the allegorical. If Tundale is analysed in the same way that Auerbach and Dronke approach the vision of Dante in his Commedia. then a pattern becomes clear. Through Tundale's experiences we learn about God's mercy and its relationship to God's justice. In spite of its elaborate descriptions of torments, the poem is not about hell or damnation 163 but about salvation. The Vision of Tundale celebrates God's mercy, which is repeatedly juxtaposed with the demands o-f justice as Tundale is repeatedly rescued -from the torments of hell by his guardian angel. Tundale is proud, irascible, envious, lecherous, gluttonous, covetous, and slothful. This list of all the seven deadly sins is the only one of its kind in the English otherworld visions, but Tundale must not be mistaken for a walking compendium of the sins man is heir to. He is quickly particularized as a rich man but a wicked one. His business practices are ruthless. Lending out nine shillings, collecting ten, he is a usurer who will never make a loan out of charity. He is also a merchant who inflates the prices of his goods. He does sell merchandise on credit, but in exchange he extorts even higher prices. This merciless and uncharitable man does not revere God or Holy Church but instead loves contention and strife . His love is misdirected to jugglers and liars and his wealth is misspent on the support of evildoers. Pitiless himself, Tundale would be a powerful example of God's mercy if he could be saved in spite of his damnable character. Furthermore, God's graciousness would have to be great enough to counteract the circumstances of Tundale's death, which are likewise damnable. Tundale's soul is seized when he is in the midst of sinfulness. The avaricious merchant travels to the house of a customer to collect the money he is owed from the sale of three horses. The customer begs an additional day to pay 164 o-f-f the debt and offers him an oath as surety. But Tundale "grucchud ftnji waxyt wroth* (1. 68 ). In fact, his wrath is a show, for ”... Tundale was bothe quynte and whysj / He sette be horsus to full hye prjse / For he had no pay in honde" <11. 71- 73). Tundale will accept late payment, but only on the condition that he pry even more money from his hapless buyer. Anxious to placate, the customer is very courteous and meek and convinces Tundale to stay for a meal. But, appropriately enough, at the first swallow of this ill-gotten meal, Tundale becomes sick. Believing himself about to die, he attempts to rise to return to his home but instead, apparently dead, falls to the floor. Tundale's plight seems like that of the drunkard in the Vision of the Monk pf Eynsham. Unshriven and in a stupor, the drunkard both literally and figuratively vomits forth his soul, the culmination of a binge that began on Christmas day, no less. Believing that a person who dies in the act of sinning cannot be saved, his friends doubt that praying for him will alleviate his misery. But the drunkard, however wicked his deeds, dies in the proper spirit, calling upon the Lord and begging for the intercession of his saints. Therefore, he is given the chance to expiate his sins. His appeal at the instant of death is enough to win him the boon of punishment in purgatory, even though he deserves otherwise for his deeds. Similarly, the last words Tundale utters, before he falls to the floor, are, *A l£j.u Cryst, 165 y aske mercy. / Y can no Cbeterl remedy" <11. 95-96). Given Tundale's character and the circumstances o-f his death, justice Mould seem to require his damnation. But because of his final words, a tension between the demands of justice and mercy is set up upon his arrival in the otherworld. In an episode that shows the influence of the tradition arising from the Vi sio Sanct i Pauli. perhaps transmitted through the Vi si on of Furseus. Tundale is met and arraigned by demons. In the Vision of Furseus. Satan argues that Furseus has unjustly profited by accepting gifts from wicked persons. He charges that "This man hath not purged himself from his faults on earth, nor hath he yet received punishment. Where then is God's justice?"^ But an angel replies that the demon does not know "God's secret counsels . . . So long as repentance is hoped for, Divine Providence protects man" Similarly, the demons in Tundale accuse the ghost of having "don owre cownsel most" and of having *wro3 t aftur owre red" <11. 172, 174). In particular, he is accused of falseness and fickleness, of having "noresched" slander, of loving strife and lechery, of using "voutry, / Pryde, envy and covetys, / Gloteny Candl all odur CfoUys" <11 . 190, 194-6). The demons do seem to have a case. But as Tundale stands in that place which is as "[melrke as ny3t," he sees a bright star <1. 219), which resolves into a spirit who is Tundale's guardian angel. This angel upbraids Tundale, who had never paid attention 164 to his counsel. Nevertheless, says the angel, "Goddus mercy schall |>e save, / Allbaff bu servydyst non to have" <11. 257-8). The demons are outraged when they realize that they are not to have Tundale, who, as they had pointed out at his arraignment, belongs to their "owne -fere" because he chose their "felyschyp" in life <11. 179, 185). Now they reiterate and amplify their argument, explicitly raising the issue of justice, as they say to the angel . . . "bu art not tlelel iustyce. Du art fals and vnry3twysse. Du seydust bu schuldust reward sone Ylke mon aftujr hat he hahe done. Tundale is owrus witlj, skyll and ry3t, For he hahe saruyd hus day ancj[ 3nyt. Full wykydly has he levyd longe. Yf we hym leyf, hu dost hus wronge" <11 . 273-801 Ulagner 12). Hitherto the otherworld visions have been noteworthy for their insistence that each man should be punished according to his deserts, and the punishments have even frequently been tailored so that the punishment would be exquisitely appropriate to the offense. But when the fiends here articulate this principle, but it is abrogated by the operation of God's mercy through the instrument of the angel, who successfully leads Tundale away from the clutches of the fiends who would drag him to hell. This theme, the triumph of mercy, continues to play a part in each stage of the poem. In Passus 11, for example, the visionary witnesses the first group of sinners and their punishment. The angel leads him into a dark place where only the 167 angel provides illumination (1. 312). Tundale sees a "del-full ctoellyng* in a "depe dale -full marke" -from which a -foul stench arises (11. 318, 315). The ground here is covered with red-hot coals upon which lies an enormous iron even hotter than the coals. The tormented souls are laid upon this iron, where they are made as . . . mol ton as wax in a plain. Dei ronnen hraw fyr land! yron bobe, As [mol ton] wax Idobel brow a clobe. (11. 340-2; Uagner 13). In a common visionary moti-f, the disintegrated souls are somehow gathered together again, only to be subjected to the same burning and melting. The cycle is endless.& The angel now, as he will throughout the vision, explains to Tundale the signi-ficance o-f what he sees. All the sinners in this part of hell are being punished for the sin of patricide or matricide. Either the condemned souls actually committed the deed, or they assented to it, or their "cursyd red" was responsible (1. 349). Tundale himself should be suffering their torment. But he has been spared—though not through any merit of his own. Declares the angel, ". . . o f his peyn schall bu not fele, / And yett bu hast deservyd hit welle" (11. 355-6). Though Tundale completely escapes this torment and two of the ones which follow, he will not, as the angel warns, be left altogether unscathed and untested. However, after a short period of suffering he will be miraculously rescued from those punishments to which he is subjected. In each case his escape 168 will highlight the mysterious, inexplicable operation of God's mercy. Emphasized in each escape are its suddenness and inexplicability and the fact that nothing in Tundale's power can account for his good fortune. Indeed, this miraculous progress follows Tundale into heaven, where his entrances into successive gardens surrounded by gateless walls are every bit as sudden and inexplicable as his escapes from torment. Yet in neither hell nor heaven do these miraculous translocations represent flaws in the narrative or attempts to lend a dream-1 ike quality to the vision, hypotheses which have been offered to account for these sudden moves. Always Tundale's guide will remind us that Tundale deserves a chance neither to experience purgatorial torments nor to ultimately escape these pains. The action mirrors this message. The first of these undeserved rescues allows Tundale a quick release from the clutches of a hideous beast so enormous that nine thousand armed men might ride inside its mouth. Within this beast are tormented thousands of souls, who are driven in to their punishment by fiends wielding burning clubs. This beast is ordained to swallow . . . couetows men Gat in erpe maky3t hU prowd and tow3e And neu^r wenon to have ynow3e, But eujj£. coueton more and more <11. 484-87j Wagner 17). The beast is so thirsty that all the waters, great and small, that ever ran east or west are not sufficient to satisfy its 169 thirst. Thus it is fitting that this insatiable beast swallow . . . yche . . . covetows wy3t 0at wenon neuer to have, Ne hoi den horn payd, nor vochensaffe. For ay be more bat bei han free, 0o more covetows mCeln may hejn see <11. 496-500j Wagner 17). The angel tells the usurer that he must endure this punishment for the covetous, and after he explains its significance, the angel vanishes, leaving Tundale to go on alone. The fiends seize him, beat him, and cast him into the beast, where other fiends continue to beat him and lions and dragons, adders and snakes, tear and gnaw at him. First he burns in fire, then freezes in ice. In his anguish he torments himself, tearing with his nails at his own cheeks. Tundale does not know how he comes out of the torments within the beast, a fact which is in keeping with the idea that one cannot account for one's own deliverance. Yet delivered he is. He finds the bright angel standing before him, and his touch gives Tundale strength and makes him whole. The next inexplicable rescue takes place at a lake, whose waves, which make a hideous din, rise "as hye / As any mon 3 myt see with ee." Within this lake are huge, sinister beasts waiting to swallow souls that might tumble from a long and narrow bridge whose surface is spiked with sharp iron and steel pikes. Passage over this bridge is a torment ordained for those who rob and steal from the church. One soul is attempting the crossing, but he is burdened by a sheaf of grain that represents stolen tithes. 170 Tundale, the angel says, must himself cross this bridge. And, while the man must cross burdened with the tithes that he stole, Tundale is forced to cross while leading a wild cow, which he must return to the angel once he reaches the other side. His burden is an appropriate one, for the angel points out that he had stolen his neighbor's cow. He is thus burdened by the theft of the beast in his attempt to find his way to salvation. Tundale seizes the cow by the horns and leads it to the bridge; but he cannot pass further than the middle of the bridge, where he encounters the tithe-stealer coming from the other direction with his burden. The bridge is so narrow that the sinners can neither pass each other nor turn back. Tundale cannot rescue himself from his dilemma. But he can be delivered through mercy. Suddenly the angel again stands before him, telling him to let the cow go and be comforted, "For bu schalt no more lede be cow" (1. 676). Tundale will no longer be burdened by this sin. Passus VII finds Tundale and the angel travelling dark paths through a wilderness. They arrive at a house, larger than any mountain, that is constructed like an oven. From its mouth burst fire and stinking "lye" within which burn the condemned souls1. < 700). Tundale hopes that Bod's grace will deliver him from this punishment, and the angel reassures him that, while he must enter this house, he will not be "schend" by the lye (1. 714). But at first this seems to be a small boon, for, though he is indeed 171 left unburned by the lye, he must experience other punishments. Tundale sees in the middle of the fire "many a fowle bocchere" wielding <1. 716) knives and hooks and axes, with which they hack souls into bits, which reassemble themselves so that the punishment can begin anew. In a marvelous bit of understatement, the poet observes that "his bo3t Tundale a full grette peyn" 1 (. 730). This pain, the angel warns him, he must endure. The fiends surround him and with their instruments they cut him to pieces. In spite of the pain, he does not die, for he is immediately made whole again but only to suffer further. But God's mercy must be illustrated one more time before Tundale perceives the significance of this sequence of events. Tundale comes out of this place of torment without being able to explain how his escape came about. He somehow finds himself sitting in a dark place called the "tschadowe] of dede" (1. 782), where a turning point in his spiritual development takes place. He began the poem as a sinner, but his experiences have brought to him the fear of damnation. Yet up to this point he has not understood the significance of his repeated escapes. Even though he sees his guardian angel standing before him, his sight is "dym”—and we feel that this is a spiritual dimness more than a physical one. He complains to the angel that he has seen "no [tokenlyng" of the truth of "be word bat wryton was / bat Goddus mercy schuld passe all byng" <11. 788, 786-7). The angel's reply raises once again the tension between mercy and justice. There 172 it no one on earth who deserves salvation, "Eble he o-f synne neuur so clene, / No3 t a chyld . . . / ©at was boron and deed Ebisl day" <11. 822-24). The visionary has thus been the witness to and the recipient of more mercy than he realized: ©at word dEesseyuesI mony a mon. AUbauff God be full of mercy. Ry3twessnes bewowyb Ego! herby. But he foryevyb more wykkydnes, ©enne he Evengjeb Ebrow) ry3twesnes. ©o peynus bat bu haddus wer but 1y3t. Grettur bu schuldyst have bolud with ry3t. <11. 790-796; Wagner 25). At last Tundale begins to understand. He falls to his knees and thanks God that "he schapped so wele" <1. 798). But, though Tundale now recognizes the extent of God's mercy, he s till must learn of the relationship between mercy and justice. Justice demands that sins be punished; mercy permits that the punishment take the form of purgation, not eternal damnation. Tundale was not consumed by the lye, but neither did he escape unscathed. The angel asks Tundale to consider why any man would believe that God would immediately forgive all his sins without requiring him to undergo penance. If sinners had nothing to fear at all, then a man would never do well. Therefore . . . bei bat ar synfull kyd And no penans in body dyd, God takyb on hem no venians, Yf bei hadon Everry] repentans. But yette be sowle som peyn schalt have <11. 805-10; Wagner 25). God is not indifferent to justice. To guard Tundale from the mistaken belief that mercy is the absence of justice, the angel subjects Tundale to two further 173 torments, -from both of which he will, according to pattern, be suddenly rescued. For the last one, he is led by the angel down a dark path that seems endless. They -follow it until they reach a *depe gyll" which is filled with smithies within which are tormented men who sinned through the products of the blacksmith's a r t. *Lo yond,* quod he angyll, * throw] is gyn Hahe Cgart] mony a mon do syn. Uherfor with hym afti^r hare dede, fiei schull be peynod in his stede" <11. 1017-20; Wagner 31). As the angel informs him, Tundale deserves to be tormented in this place. Tundale is carried by fiends into a smithy, where he istossed into the midst of the fire, which is stirredwith great bellows as if he is to be melted like new iron. He suffers this pain in the company of thousands of others, who, whenmolten, are cast onto an anuil and smitten with hammers asif they werebeing tempered like iron and steel. After Tundale is delivered from this deserved torment, the angel explains the significance of what he has endured: "Tundale," he seyd, "now may hu see Werof hi synnus seruyd be. f)e [fell] to have a gret angwys For hi delytes and hi folys. Dese hat hu art delyuered froo Wer ordeynyd he peyn for to doo, For why hit same company Foloyddyn he in Chi] foly” <11. 1081-88; Wagner 32). The gui1ty Tundale is left speechless. He "stod [styllel, and 174 cowbe no3t say, / For his wytte was ner away" (11. 1089-90). But the angel comforts the stunned sinner, reminding him again that he has much to be grateful for. No matter how great the torments encountered thus far, there are worse—but Tundale will escape them. Furthermore, though Tundale, as his journey continues, will see souls who have been cast into hell to suffer endless pain for their misdeeds, he will also see others who "so3ton Goddys mercy" and who will therefore pass that pain unscathed1. < 1103). Tundale's journey through the realms of purgatory and hell culminates with a scene that was adumbrated by the arraignment in which the theme of justice versus mercy was first broached. In a dark place Tundale suddenly is deserted by his guardian angel. Inexorably, it seems, Tundale's abandoned soul f lits toward hell. The wretched Tundale again tears at his cheeks and laments the fact that he does not know what the best counsel would be. Hearing his cries, fiends carrying instruments of torture approach him and greet him as if he were a soul newly arrived in hell. They mouth the message of the angel—but only part of it: ■For hi wykkydnes and bi foly / In fyr to brenne art bu worby" (11. 1185-86). They assure Tundale that Ge barre not bynke, on no wysse, Too be delyuered of bis angwysse In Cmerkelnes schalt bu eu££. bee, For 1y3tnes schalt bu neuejr see. Gu (bar! trust not helpe to have, For noo mercy schall be save (11. 1195-1200; Wagner 34). 175 But the fiends are to be foiled again. Rather undramatically, the angel simply comes onto the scene, and the fiends immediately flee. The fact that Tundale's rescue should be effected so quietly is itself a powerful illustration of the magnitude of God's mercy. It requires no dramatic, epic battle for God's agent to rout the pack of demons. The late middle ages saw a resurgence of interest in otherworld visions, but this interest is sometimes described as decadent, as if the final recrudescence of a genre in decay. Thus the elaborate descriptions of torments found in visions like that of Tundale have been viewed both as morbid and as the very raison d'etre of such accounts.* But the torments in the Vision of Tundale must be examined within the context of a pattern of repeated and undeserved escapes. Such an examination allows them to take their rightful place within a 'figural allegory' of salvation. For, in fact, the elaborate torments in the English metrical version of Tundale are described not to satisfy some craving for details about hell but so that the point can be made that God's mercy is so great that even those who deserve such horrific punishments can be saved. God's mercy must be bountiful indeed if a soul as culpable as Tundale's is allowed to purge itself. As Tundale rejoices in the conclusion of the poem, Lord . . . lovyd mot bu bee. For |»y marcy£Q j£[ M gudnes Passus [here! all [my] wykkydnes, Passe hyt be m[yky11] and grev^s, soore, By grace and bi mercy is meche more <11. 2310-2314; Uagner 55). 176 Paradoxically, and therefore all the more appropriately, the very magnitude of the torments described in Tundale has become a measure of God/s mercy. A figural approach to events, people, animals,and objects permitted—even encouraged—the Tundale visionary to preserve a concrete protagonist with his own history because, in fact, a spiritual meaning was incarnate in that history. But there were other forces besides an analogical view of the world that encouraged the preservation of the individuality or historicity of characters in visions. Visions were sometimes utilized for political criticism: in an effort to legitimize a new regime, a "visionary” might report having seen the king's predecessor in hell. The fact that the visions were used as vehicles for social criticism also helped bring, if not individuality, at least a certain amount of concreteness as sinners were diffentiated at least into groups by social class or profession. The increasing elaboration of the principle of appropriate punishment also led to individual sketches. At first punishment was appropriate in the sense that it was directed at the offending body part. A vain woman, for example, might be hung up by the hair of which she had been so proud. But appropriate punishment also came to mean that an individual would be condemned to repeatedly enact his crime, but with great pain. For example, the Vision of Thurki11. said to have occurred in 1206, describes the punishment in hell of a proud man, a churchman, a knight, a chief justice, 177 two adulterers, two backbiters, a church-robber, a brutal herdsman, a dishonest tradesman, and a knavish miller. Each is punished by being -forced to re-enact his crime. The justice, -for instance, takes bribes from both sides in a court case—but the coins burn his hands. The miller steals flour—but he smothers and burns in it. Vivid portraits are created both of typical sinners in action and of the attendant punishments. Then, too, the crystallization of the idea of purgatory in the twelfth century also encouraged writers of visions to create portraits of individuals. Authors began to use visions to convey the message that the living could intervene on behalf of the dead. Individuals are singled out to be described—and they are not monsters but souls whose stay in purgatory can, we are reminded, be shortened by our prayers, deeds, or alms. Sometimes these souls are identified with specific individuals that the visionary knew in life. The concreteness already permitted by figuralism was further encouraged by these developments. Also fostering the creation of concrete individuals was the growth in the twelfth century of interest in the psychology of the sinner. Confessional manuals, which had supplied the clergy with lists of penances to be assigned for particular sins, increasingly guided confessors in probing the minds of the penitent. As we have seen in the Vision of Tundale. simultaneously with this development some visions shifted away from depicting sinners who passively endure their assigned 178 torments in purgatory. We begin to see portraits of penitents who develop spiritually as they progress toward Paradise and Heaven. The late-twelfth century British vision, translated from Latin into English in the fifteenth century as The Vision pf the Monk of Eynsham. illustrates this new interest in the mind of the sinner through the portraits and confessions of individual sinners in the midst of the dynamic process of changing. 10 Mary Flowers Braswell, in The Medieval Sinner; Characterization and Confession hj. the Literature of the Enol ish Middle Aoes. has studied the impact of the Qmnis utriusque sexus decree of the Fourth Lateran Council, which in 1215 mandated annual confession.** The decree generated a profusion of "how to" manuals designed to guide the clergy as they led the laity through confession. These manuals emphasized the need for genuine contrition rather than the simple fulfillment of assigned penitential acts. The confessor, in order to lead the sinner to this contrition, needed to encourage him to be introspective, to thoroughly examine his motives and to evaluate the nature of his sins. Braswell contends that such manuals, with their emphasis on the interior of the individual sinner, influenced literary characterization, leading authors to create self-aware, introspective characters. She explores in particular the occurrence of "confession* or parodies of "confession" in the fourteenth-century Ricardian poets Langland, Gower, Chaucer and the Gawain-poet. 179 Braswell presents a compelling argument -for the in-fluence of the confession manuals on literary characterization, but it is worth extending her argument slightly backwards in time. As Leonard E. Boyle points out in "The Fourth Lateran Council and Manuals of Popular Theology," few or none of the decrees of the council were complete innovations. Boyle writes that "Ib3y and large the package of constitutions . . . simply summed up, on the one hand, some local practices which had proven themselves in various parts of Europe and, on the other, some of the theological and legal advances of the renaissance of the twelfth century.Fourth Lateran Council "putt! its stamp on a century or so of innovation and practice" (Boyle 31). Just as the decree itself was not completely an innovation, so too the resulting "literature of pastoral care" (Boyle 31) was not newly developed in response to the decree. Boyle points out that the movement towards providing the clergy with manuals of pastoral care in fact began before 1215 (Boyle 31). The various kinds of manuals that he discusses were not, he says, created only after the Fourth Lateran Council. Though examples were fewer in number, most types of manuals existed or developed between the Third and Fourth Lateran Councils, i.e ., between 1179 and 1215 (Boyle 33). Thus, though the Fourth Lateran Council led to an explosion in the number of works devoted to pastoral care, several manuals of confession were in fact already available fifteen or twenty years before the Fourth Lateran Council met and 180 promulgated the Omnis utriusoue sexus decree (Boyle 33). The Omnis Utriusaue Sexus decree of 1215 therefore may be described as ratifying and intensifying trends that were already present, trends that were in existence when The Vision of the Monk of Eynsham was composed in or shortly after the year 1196. Certainly the author of this vision shows the familiarity with the theory and practice of confession and the intense interest in the interior of the sinner that Braswell describes in works written after 1215. The act of confession can in fact be said to be the second main organizing principle of the vision. The journey is of course the firs t, but within the frame of the journey the vision is organized into a series of confessions. Repeatedly the visionary is the auditor of the accounts of self- aware sinners, while his descriptions of the torments seem to take on an almost perfunctory quality. Indeed, the descriptions of torments sometimes serve only to remind the reader of the importance of the individual's state of spiritual development. When the visionary does recount the collective punishment of groups of sinners, he observes that different sinners experience the same torment yet some benefit sooner, becoming purified, progressing spiritually and therefore moving to the next stage of purgatory, each at his own individual rate. The emphasis on the interior life of the sinners becomes apparent the moment the visionary arrives in Purgatory. He reports that he has been given the ability to see into the souls 181 of the sinners. He is privy to the intensity of the sinners7 mental suffering and the depth of their contrition! Nowther these thyngys ware vnto my syghte as naturaly a man seyth with bodely yes that ys to saye the vtwarde peynys that a man sofryth yn bodye. but also what they felte ynwardly good or euylle and with what heuynesse or wyth what gladnes they were smytte wythinforthe in her sowllys alle was to me that tyme playne and opyn. (Arber 42-43) CNeque enim, ut carnaliurn oculorum natura consuevit, eorurn superficiem tantummodo qui videbantur perstringebat obtuitus, se que in occult is bona vel mala sentiebant qui afficiebantur letis aut tristibus, omnia intuenti pervia fuerunt atque conspicua. The visionary in fact gains insight into the mental states of the sinners in three ways: through the kind of visionary empathy described above, through listening to "confessions" made to others, and through "confessions" made directly in response to his own questions. Of the three, however, the last two are the most important. Out of the many encounters with sinners in the vision, three will, 1 hope, suffice to illustrate the influence of the importance of the act of confession to the characterization of sinners in The Vision of the Monk of Eynsham. The first self-aware sinner encountered in the vision is a lecherous woman being led to hell by demons. Her confession is one of the shorter ones, but it sets the pattern for the remainder of the vision. Uith.his insight, the visionary recognizes both the exterior signs of sin and the interior signs of contrition. The woman is "keuerd wyth the vesture of schame and vellonye", but "wyth yn sche is byttyn wyth the conscyens of 182 schameful dedys done wycKydly" St. Margaret arrives, descending, like Tundale/s guardian angel, in a blaze of light, and this self-aware sinner appeals to her for mercy. She is appropriately contrite. She acknowledges that she is *ryghtfully put to peynys and tormente* and confesses the sin of lechery, declaring that*1 knowlege and verely knowlege that yn al my lyfe y dyspysed the commawndementys of god and gaue my body to al onclene leuyng* Furthermore, she has neither ”louyd affectualy” God and his saints nor, with the exception of St. Margaret, has she done ”any worshippe to hem yn dede" (Eynsham 44; AB 261: vel affectu dilexi vel facto venerata sum) . She is also aware that she has not, prior to death, made a valid confession. Nor has she done sufficient penance: . . . 1 beleuyd . . . that by the remedy of confession al my synnys hade be weshte awey. But alas for sorowe my confession was not sufficient to weshte and do awey so gret and so mony fowle synnys and olde by cause y lackyd before the feruor of contricion and dyd not for my synnys euynworthy penans. [confession is lavacro totius vite mee flagitia diluisse credidi, sed hanc, heu proh dolor, nec precedens contrition is fervor, nec subsequentes penitencie et satisfactionis digne fructus congruam reddiderunt ad tot et tantas tamque inveteratas diluendas sordes. But her devotion to St. Margaret has won her a chance to make a truly contrite confession, and that in turn moves St. Margaret to intercede on her behalf. She will not go to hell after all. Just as she won a second chance to confess, so has she won a second chance to do her penance, albeit in purgatory. The first sinner who confesses to the visionary himself is the goldsmith briefly referred to above in the discussion of the Vision of Tundale. His confession well illustrates the insistence of the confession manuals that the sinner be aware that the circumstances of a sin determine its gravity. For example, the sinner acknowledges and keenly regrets the fact that he sinned on the holy day of Christmas. The goldsmith, who had been known by the visionary in life, had died from "for ouer mekylle drynkyng wyne" 47j AB 263> in hoc loco tormentorem quern oostremo deoinxi hunc michi cominus vicinum asoexi. Quern confestim aonoscens. et pre mu118s ali is auos videram spe bona tormenta tolerare leviusoue aff1ictum cernens. ooido miratus sum) . The visionary asks the goldsmith how he managed to pass the pains of the first place of torment. This question leads to the beginning of the goldsmiths confession, in which he creates himself as a character by spinning a mini-autobiography filled with details of time and place and person and cause. He acknowledges that the world must think him damned, but the intercession of the visionary's guide, St. Nicholas, has preserved him. The visionary then asks him to explain how he escaped eternal damnation, and the goldsmith's answer takes up a full chapter. The goldsmith acknowledges that he indeed was a drunkard to the very end, but he had been distressed by his sinfulness and had tried to reform. He had never left off his devotion to St. Nicholas, and, no matter how much he drank in the evening, he would appear at the church by matins, sometimes even before the parish priest. The goldsmith also paid to keep a lamp burning in St. Nicholas's chapel and was responsible for the purchase of other ornaments. Finally, he had been careful to fully confess 165 himself to the parish priest twice a year, at Christmas and at Easter, and he added to the days of fasting ordained by the priest. Nevertheless, it becomes plain, just as in the Vision of Tundale. that no man, even with the best of intentions, can save himself. The goldsmith confesses that he only partly fulfills the terms of penance laid down by the parish priest. Furthermore, his desire to drink and the bad company he kept caused him to return again to his sin. Thus on Christmas of all days, after keeping a fast, confessing, and receiving communion, he is drawn to drink. Sothely on crystynmas daye after that y had resceyuyd the good lorde that y can not remembre withowte grete horror and heuynes. y was drawyn of an euyl custome as y seyd afore by ouermoche drynkyng the same daye in to dronkynnesse ageyne to the grete iniurye and ronge of seche a lorde whome y had resceyuyd a lyteyll before in to my sowle And on the morow y wente to chyche as y vs id to do fore waylyng the fowle vice the whiche y dyde the daye before purposyng to be ware of hyt and to do no more / but hit was as voyde and vayne For by the occasion that y had of drinkyng and the deuylys steryng me therto / y was destitute and lost the stabulnes of vertu and the mighty purpos of soburnes that y had conceuyd: and so y fulfilde not my purpose in dede. but fowle as y dyd yysterdaye so y dyd to daye and by delectacion of ouer mekyl drynkyng fyl downe agayne to dronkinnes. (Arber 50) CDe more siquidem, ut prelibavi, Natalis Domini die, que vicinior exitus me de corpore discrimen antecesserat, cum essem vivifica mense celestis participations refectus, quod meminisse sine ingenti horrore non valeo, nimia potatione in ebrietem traductus sum sine iniuria et dolenda inhoratione tanti hospitis quem mentis habitaculo susceperam. In crastino ad ecclesiam ut moris michi fuit ante lucem processi, quod pridie feceram lugens et dampnans ac de cetero dampnare proponens. At id frustra. Nerito enim tanti excessus quem in tarn sacra die post tanti perceptionem sacramenti negligenter admiseram, impletur 186 in me quod in populo quodam hostibus suis resistere non valenti rex ipsorum evenisse deflet. Sic, sic nimirum, virile sobrietatis propositum quod mente conceperam, occasione potandi ingesta, instigante adversario et virtutis instancia destitutis, in facto non edidi, sed turpiter sicut heri, sic et hodie vitio blandiente succubui. (AB 266)3 This process is repeated yet another day, the third one after Christmas. The goldsmith stays out drinking and returns home to sleep fully clothed and shod. Suddenly he awakes and thinks that the bells have rung for matins. His wife tells him that this is not the case and he lies down again: "Trewly thanne fyrst y toke a slepe and anone after y toke my dethe (Arber 50- 51; AB 267: In. momento enim post hec. dormitio orius somoni et confestim etiam mortis me oervasit) . While the goldsmith sleeps, he is strangled by a certain devil, who fears that if the goldsmith lives longer he will be able to amend his ways through the mercy of his patron saint Nicholas. This devil believes, as did the goldsmith's friends, that if the goldsmith dies "in seche a perylle whytowte any contradiccion" he will be damned (Arber 51). But the goldsmith has one precious moment of awareness in which to call on his patron saint: Trewly y felte him like an owle I toad in Latin] goo in to my mowthe the whiche oftyn tymes ful euylle y opynd to drynke and so thorowe my throte slyly came downe to my harte. And anone y knewe that hit was the deuil. Notwithstondyng y was yet myndfull of the mercijs of god and also of myne owne wrechydnes and with stabulle purpose vowyd in my mynde that y wold purely and holy confesse me of alle my synnys. and vtwardly for euer forsake the wyse of dronkennes And to this y called as inwardly as y kowde. on sent Nicholas to be my borowe. 18? Sothely to this auysement onnethe was graunted roe the space of a moment. (Arber 51) CSensi eum instar buffonis, os roeuro quod totiens male patulum bibendo laxaveram ingressum, roox per gule fistulam ad cordis abdita proserpere. Extemplo inimici agnovi presenciam, nec imnemor taroen miserationum domini vel miser iaruro me arum, -fixo iam proposito. Domino in mente vovi quod puram, fidelem et integram de omnibus peccatis meis facerem confessionem et ebrietatis vitium omnimodis it eternum abdicarem. Ad hec fideiussorem michi fore sanctum poscebam Nicholaum, ipsum etiam ut potui medullitus invocando. Verum ad huiusmodi deliberationem momentaneum vix michi spatium indulgebatur. (AB 247)3 Sitting upon the heart of the goldsmith, the demon seizes it and then, reports the goldsmith, draws out of the goldsmith's mouth a "horrable voment of venyne and caste hit al abrode and so in the space of a twynbelyng of an ye he expel1yd and caste me oute of my bodye* (Arber 51). The idea that the soul departs the body through the mouth is a commonplace, but the author has made i 3 it peculiarly appropriate here. The demon enters through the mouth—the route that led to the goldsmith's downfall—and the sinner vomits forth his soul. Certainly the goldsmith's case seems desperate. Indeed, like the lecherous woman, the goldsmith acknowledges that damnation would be just. But, also as in the case of the lecherous woman, mercy is possible: "as ryghtwesly as y was to be dampde and cruelly to be ponyshte as mekely and as mercyfully he [St. Nicholas! hath noryshte and kept me* (Arber 50). This is the message of the excursus, in which the topic of the punishments in hell is set aside and the tour of purgatory 188 becomes secondary to making this point. This sinner is not saved in spite of the fact that he was in an unshriven state. His devotion to St. Nicholas did not excuse him from the need for contrition or penance. Instead} his devotion wins him the time—that "space of a moment"—in which to put his spiritual house in order. And having done so, he, like the woman, is granted the boon of purgatory, the opportunity to fulfill the penance that he should have fulfilled in life. The lecherous woman is self-aware. The goldsmith also is introspective and his more detailed confession demonstrates his awareness that degree of guilt is determined by the circumstances of person, place, time, manner, and cause. By addressing these circumstances he creates himself as a character. These characteristics are among those identified by Braswell in literature influenced by the ideas of the confession manuals. Yet another characteristic of sinners in such literature, according to Braswell, is the fact that the sinners play active roles. Sinners have an effect on society, an ability to set events in motion. Their behavior provides an occasion for the creation of plot. I will describe one last confession, that of a prior, to illustrate this characteristic of the sinner. Through his confession, the prior reveals his awareness both of self and of the fact that one circumstance that affects gravity of a sin is its repercussions in the lives of others. In his case, the aftershocks caused by his sin still continue, and 189 his penance is therefore not set -for all time but is increased by the misbehavior of the still-liv in g . The prior must make good his own sins, but he is also responsible for the sins committed by those whose training had been in his negligent hands. Like the lecherous woman and the goldsmith, this prior, keenly self-aware, knows and admits his motives for failing to do his duty. He confesses, "Trewlye the fauyr of pepulle and the loue of worschippe that y had me prinspaly noythe (Arber 66): The couetyse ambycyon that y hadde to kepe my worschippe. and the fere that y hadde to leue hit. so blyndyd the syghte of my soule that y lowsyd the brydyl of correccyon to the willys of my sogettys and sofryd hem to doo and folowe her desyrys and lustys as my yes had be closyd. leste haply yef y had corrects hem and refraynde hem from her lyghtnees they wulle haue be to me as enemyes to labure and to haue me out of my worschippe and prelacyon that y was in. (Arber 66) [Amor vero excellentie et honoris ac favor is humani, turn sui ipsius vitio, turn aliorum occasione malorum, que illius michi causa merito imputantur, principaliter nocuit, et heu dolori meo sicut modum sic et terminum, ni Deus misereatur, funditus ademit. Cupido enim retinendi honoris avida et amittendi timida ita excecaverat oculos cordis mei ut discipline habenas subiectorum voluntati omnino lSxarem, permittens eos velud clausis oculis voluptatibus suis et desideriis, ne forte illos acquirerem prelationis mee insidiatores, si suis levitatibus meum experlrentur rigorem oppositum. (AB 280)] Not only did the prior fail to act, but he belittled the efforts of the good religious men who with zeal and devotion wished to keep the order. Instead of helping and cherishing these religious, the prior would join with their enemies and would backbite. He would, he confesses, "speke euyl of hem and 190 detraete hem* (Arber 64), This negligence caused by the prior/s "cruel lightnes” and his desire to retain his position produces results that are devastating not only to the prior's moral status but to that of his underlings. Those in his care feel free to "pleye lewde gamys and to speke and clathyr tryfullys iapys and other lewdnesse and also to goo and wandyr amonge secler folkys and ydelnes" (Arber 67). Even though the prior did not approve of such wicked deeds, he did permit them. And in fact his former subjects are still committing such deeds—and some have gone on to commit worse. Therefore the prior is s till suffering torments in the first place of punishment, and he feels that he has no hope of moving on to the next stage. His pains are continually augmented: as ofte as they the whyche y lefte alyue dampnably offendyd. anone the deuyls ranne to me with grete scornes and vpbraydys and euermore and more with newe peynys encresyng my tormentys. (Arber 67) [Quoties enim dampnabile aliquid perpetrarunt quos superstites post me reliqui, accurrunt demones inde michi cum exprobratione nimia insultantes, penas priores novis et atrocioribus semper accumulantes. (AB 281)] Indeed, he reports that his first day in purgatory was the easiest one he had. He is also tormented by the thought of what sins his subjects might be committing at the moment. In particular, he worries that he will soon have to face the punishment for sodomy, a fairly nasty torment. The prior has set in motion a chain of events whose end he cannot foresee. 191 The Vision of the Monk of Eynsham is not only a journey through the terrors of purgatory but an examination of the mind of the sinner. Proceeding largely through confession, it is a vision that simultaneously admonishes the reader to fear the torments of purgatory and teaches him the importance of valid confession. Even when the visionary is describing the various torments--the kind of material we expect to find in journeys to the otherworld—he shifts his treatment toward the interior of the sinner. The corporeal punishments described do place this vision firmly within the admonitory tradition of the Visio Sancti Paul 8. The vision at points does contain almost formulaic recitations of familiar tortures. But also depicted in the vision is another type of punishment, a noncorporeai one, in which there is an exquisite correspondence between the mind of a soul and the punishment assigned to it. In fact, a soul's sinful preoccupation becomes the instrument of its own torment. Witness the fate of a clerk, a doctor of law, who made an incomplete confession because he was "aschamed" to confess the sin of sodomy. His pride follows him to purgatory to torment him. He must re-enact his sin, a painful enough sentence, but what distresses him the most is the public nature of his punishment, athe vnhappy presentacion of (his] fowle and vnclene leuyng." Again he is "asshamed," now because he, who had appeared so honorable, is revealed to be foul and abominable. To him, this unmasking is the worst pain he must suffer. He is 192 punished by his own pride. The attempt to portray a correspondence between sin and punishment is, of course, not original to the monies vision. As earlier chapters have demonstrated, long before the twelfth century like sinners had been grouped with like, and different, often peculiarly appropriate punishments had been assigned to these various groupings. Likewise not novel is the motif of perpetual, painful re-enactment of a sins or of torments that can take a psychological form. What is distinctive here is the extent of the emphasis on the psychology of sinning that permits the punishments to assault the mind as well as the body. This is in keeping with the psychological bent of the vision as a whole. The sinners do not arrive in a certain state of mind, serve a set period of purgatory, and graduate to bliss in the same state of mind in which they arrived. The souls progress spiritually through a sequence of punishments. Some sinners progress quickly through the process of purgation; others are slower to benefit. Like the Vision of Tundale. the Vision of the Monk of Eynsham lacks the obvious trappings of allegory and preserves, even accentuates the individuality of its characters. Nevertheless, this portrayal of souls as sinners struggling on a journey toward salvation is one of the ways in which the narrative is analogous to the struggle of the living, including the visionary himself, on the earthly journey toward salvation. Sinners must endure the otherworldly equivalents of the contrition and penance that they 193 should have experienced on earth. Thus the author of the Vision of Eynsham. even without making use of personifications, is able to turn his putative tour of the otherworld into an examination of the psychology of sinning. r? CHAPTER VI11 PROLEGOMENON TO PIERS PLOWMAN This study has focused on a number of characteristics that developed in the medieval Latin visions of the otherworld that were read in England either in Latin or in English translations. I would like to conclude by suggesting that the characteristics of apocryphal apocalypses and their literary descendants, these medieval accounts of visionary journeys to the otherworld, may help account for certain peculiarities of the Vision of Mi 11i am Concernino Piers the Plowman. The poem has been treated as an embodiment of apocalyptic ideas by several scholars, most notably by Morton U. Bloomfield in Piers Plowman as a Fourteenth Century Apocalypse, but no one has given developed consideration to the possibility that Piers should be placed within the context of apocalypse as a genre or a literary tradition. Bloomfield, for example, refuses to consider Piers as an apocalypse because he questions whether there is any such "genre.” Yet any argument over whether the visions should be called a "literary tradition" or a "genre" would not change the fact that there was a set of texts, recognized as such, that shared a concatenation of content and conventions. The fact that one can sometimes find one writer explicitly imitating another indicates that there was an 194 195 awareness on the part of the writer that he was creating something within a genre or a literary tradition. Bloomfield has > a second reason for rejecting the possibility, except in the most general sense, that the shape or structure of apocalyptic texts may be helpful in elucidating the structure of Piers. He cites as "fundamental differences" the presence in Piers of multiple guides, of personification, and of a quest. We have seen, however, that the pseudo-apocalypse of the Shepherd of Hermas relies on several mediators, one of whom is a woman who personifies the church; and the presence of allegorical figures is one characteristic mentioned by Bernard McGinn in his description of the apocalyptic in Visions of the End. Moreover, McGinn points out that a vision of a journey, generally to heaven, is one of the most frequent forms taken by apocalypses and that such a visionary journey usually disturbs and perplexes the traveler. In addition to the sim ilarities between apocalypse, pseudo apocalypse, and Piers Plowman, such medieval visions as those of Thurkill, Tundale, and the Monk of Eynsham likewise display many of the features found in Piers Plowman. They are episodic. They present sequences of visions and colloquies. They mold together the trance, the colloquy, and the quest or journey. A narrator, in a trance, is guided on a journey, and a dialogue ensues between guide and visionary. The visionary's role seems to shift from foreground to background as the guide or, in some cases, the 196 guides sometimes take over the visions in order to explicate the scene. Yet at other times the narratives -focus on the interior o-f the visionary or on the psychology o-f the souls he encounters in the otherworld. The episodic nature o-f the apocalypses and visions; the utilisation of vision, colloquy, and quest; the narrative inconsistencies created by a narrator who fades in and out of the foreground; the apparently digressive sermons and set- pieces such as infernal pageants—such features suggest that it would be worthwhile to place Piers Plowman, with what Bloomfield calls its "peculiar shifting organization," within the tradition of the apocalypse and of its descendant, the visionary journey. Certainly the otherworld journey is a more compelling model for Piers Plowman than the allegorical dream narrative which Bloomfield includes among the six genres that influenced the structure of Piers Plowman (Bloomfield 34). As Derek Pearsall points out in his note to the opening lines of the C-text, which set the vision in "a somur sesoun whan softe was 3e sonne" (1. 1), the "use of the seasonal setting here is one of Langland's few allusions to fashionable poetic convention."1 A comparison with the Roman de la Rose shows how 1ittle Piers Plowman has in common with such narratives. Constance Hieatt points to the thirteenth-century Roman de la Rose as "a sort of prototype" of the medieval dream vision. The Roman, she declares, "contains almost all the elements characteristic of this school of poetry. It was also the best known and most influential example, serving as a model to several generations of court poets, including Geoffrey Chaucer."^ Hieatt lists the elements of the poem that become characteristic features of the medieval dream vision (Hieatt 15-18). The Roman begins with a discussion of dreams and makes reference to Macrobius's commentary on the dream of Scipio. The poet tells us that what follows took place in a dream. The poet, who is young, a quality appropriate for a lover, awakes on a beautiful Kay morning, described in particular with attention to birds and flowers, which have both decorative and symbolic value. The poet follows a clear stream (a well will figure later in the narrative) to a walled garden whose outer wall is decorated with pictures representing the types not permitted in the garden, such as Old Age or Poverty. Those found within the garden are themselves personifications and include the God of Love, who is depicted as a feudal lord (in other allegories the God of Love is "often worshipped with a sort of parody of Christian ritual" CHieatt 17] is described). The lover is shot through the eye by the God of Love, swears allegiance to him, and is ordered to compose poems in honor of his lady. Finally, the lover attempts to reach the symbolic rose, but his efforts result in the imprisonment of Fair-Welcome in a tower. Aside from its setting in a "somur sesoun," Piers seems to have few sim ilarities with the Roman. There is, for example, no elaborate description of birds and flowers. Nor does the action 198 take place in a walled garden. Such sim ilarities—for example, the presence of personifications and allegorical buildings—do not require positing that Piers is directly indebted to the genre of the allegorical dream vision. If Bogdanos is correct, then both poems may share a common ancestor. Furthermore, in addition to the negative evidence of what the poem lacks, there is positive evidence that suggests that Langland was familiar with the tradition. Dante indicates his awareness of the tradition by protesting to his guide that he is no Paul. Langland, too, includes language that shows knowledge of Paul the visionary. He quotes the passage from 2 Corinthians- -Audivi archana verba, oue non 1icet homini looui (Pearsal 1 C.XX.433) — in a context which mirrors the one in which the words were traditionally placed: Paul was believed to have learned the secrets of hell during his rapture and the LHsio Sancti Pauli in its many redactions and translations always includes an account of Paul's journey to hell. In W ill's vision, too, the line is associated with a glimpse of the afterlife. In both the B- and the C-text the Harrowing of Hell is taking place and Christ is speaking. In the B-text, Christ is describing the action of his mercy and the role purgatory plays in the granting of that mercy: . . . though Holy Ur it wole that I be wroke of hem that diden ille— Nullum malum imouniturn &c— Thei shul be clensed clerliche and [clenel wasshen of hir synnes In my prisone Purgatorie, til oarce it hote. For blood may suffre blood bothe hungry and acale, Ac blood may noght se blood blede, but hym rewe.3 199 The long Latin version o-f the Visio Sancti Paul i warns o-f what will justly be-fall various classes o-f sinners but also illustrates Christ's mercy because, in response to the pity -felt by Paul and others, He grants the tormented sinners periodic respite in commemoration o-f the day on which He rose -from the dead. Several o-f the shorter Latin redactions, including those that were translated into Middle English, -focus on this incident alone and turn this respite into a weekly one that was granted each Sunday. Thus the issue of justice versus mercy, so central to Piers Plowman, was present at an early stage in the otherworld visions. In addition'to signalling his awareness o-f the Pauline visionary tradition, the nature o-f the narrator's experience -frequently corresponds not to the kind o-f dreams -found in a writer such as Geoffrey Chaucer, who was clearly indebted to the allegorical dream vision, but rather to raptures, sudden trances that a man falls into during waking hours. In the C-text, the seventh vision, which marks the end of dobet and the beginning of dobest, begins in Passus XXI. Will awakes from the sixth vision and writes down what he has "ydremed" (Pearsall C.XXI.l). He then prepares to attend mass and confession, dressing himself *derely,a an action which Pearsall, following Robertson-Huppe', argues "symbolizes the change in his spiritual state. . . . He is now robed as a true wedding-guest (Matt. 22: 11), ready to enter into communion with Christ" (Pearsall 342, n. on 1. 2). While at 200 mass, he suddenly is rapt: "I ful eftesones aslepe and sodeynliche me mette" (Pearsall, C.XXI.5). Here the onset of the vision is unlike the conventional ones o-f allegorical dream visions. Instead, as in the apocalyptic tradition, the visionary falls suddenly into a state of rapture. I would suggest then that in Piers Plowman we have a poet who was familiar with the otherworld vision. He explores in part a theme similar to those found in the otherworld visions—the relationship between justice and mercy. Perhaps more compelling, he employs the same type of organization, the same type of narrator, the same type of dialogues. He also peoples his vision with the same kinds of characters that people the later otherworld visions. There are also many other resemblances to be explored; for example, the inconclusive ending of Piers has similarities with the unfinished nature of some visions, which "conclude" with a new beginning for the visionary. A study that places Piers within the vision tradition may help to explain not only the overall structure of the poem but also the way Langland handles certain specific passages. I would like to suggest in particular that the way Langland handles the confessions of the Seven Deadly Sins in Passus VI-VII of the C-Text can be compared with the way such portraits and speeches are presented in the visions. There were two different kinds of encounters with "sins" in the early visions of the Otherworld. In one kind of encounter, 201 the soul of a newly dead man would confront the "spirits" of various sins, frequently seven in number. If a spirit perceived anything "belonging" to itself in the soul, then it could claim that soul. Frequently the soul had to traverse seven circles— face seven challenges—before finally escaping the clutches of the spirits. Apparently the number of deadly sins in Christian theology is ultimately based upon this tradition, though the final, i.e ., Gregorian, list of sins is not identical to any surviving ancient list. In his book TJve Seven Readl.y Sins*, Morton W. Bloomfield has studied the process which led from Middle Eastern accounts of the Soul Drama or Journey to the Otherworld to the Gregorian list. In the Judaeo-Christian tradition, seven chief sins are first mentioned late in the second century B. C., in the Testament of Reuben (Bloomfield 44). They take the form of the seven "spirits of deceit" that we examined as proto-personifications. Five hundred years later, Evagrius of Pontus uses four of same Greek terms—and a fifth that corresponds closely to one in the Testament—in the first list of cardinal sins drawn up by an orthodox Christian writer. Argues Bloomfield, "It is clear that in both cases, possibly five hundred years apart, we are dealing with the same tradition" (Bloomfield 45). Two hundred years later the list of sins associated with the Soul Journey crystalized into its most influential form, the list in the Moralia of Gregory the Great (d. 604), the SIIAAGL list: 202 superbia, ira, invidia, avaritia, acedia, gula, and luxuria (Bloomfield 72-73). The influence of these seven sins can then be traced through homilies, into religious poetry, and finally into vernacular literature, including drama. In general, secular writers began to use the Sins at the end of the 12th century, but the 14th and 15th centuries saw the great flourishing of works dealing with the sins (Bloomfield 107). One format in which the sins appeared was the confessional formula which, Bloomfield says, was "ultimately to be used by secular writers, and [which] in the hands of Langland . . . receivels) notable expression" (Bloomfield 118). Yet there was another type of encounter with sins in the visions, one which took place when the visionary journeyed through hell. There the visionary would see not the sins or the spirits of deceit but groups of people representative of different sins, each group suffering a punishment for a particular sin. Curiously, though some of the deadly sins are mentioned, the descriptions of groups of representative sinners in hell rarely are organized by the seven sins. Visions of the Otherworld were being composed as late as the fifteenth century, but the Gregorian formula was rarely imposed onto them (Bloomfield 139). For this reason Bloomfield chooses to mention these visions only in passing. Instead of personifying the Seven Deadly Sins, the authors of the visions prefer to use their / journeys to portray typical sinners or to criticise social 203 groups. Thus the visions continued their development quite independently o-f the SI1AAGL tradition. Meanwhile the Gregorian list of sins, cut loose from the Otherworld visions from which it was derived, was developed through many allegorical devices. Now initially in the second type of encounter with sin, what is stressed was not the individuality of the sinners who were being punished. The sinners are frequently given grotesque features so that they seem more monstrous than human. And great attention is paid to the torments that the sinners are suffering. The sinners are damned, and the concern of the authors of these visions is to impress upon the living the need for reform in their own 1ives. But as was demonstrated above in Chapter VI, several factors encouraged writers of visions to begin to particularize their sinners. The visions were utilized for political and social criticism; the principle of appropriate punishment was elaborated; the idea of purgatory was crystallized; the psychology of sinners was stressed in confessional manuals. Sinners are thus frequently not allegorical figures but representative ones. They are types and they are individuals. A comparison of two visions, one early, another late, illustrates how the visions moved toward concreteness in the portrayal of men and women who represent sins. The first is a Middle English translation, quite a faithful one, of one of the shorter redactions of the Visio Sancti Pauli. In it the emphasis 204 is on the punishments, not on portraits o-f individual representative sinners. The second is the Vision o-f the Monk of Eynsham. in which many of the representative sinners are indeed individuals. The Vernon MS contains an account, in Middle English, of St. Paul's vision of hell. This version is one of those designed to show the special ness of Sunday by recounting the legend that, because of the prayers of St. Paul, the damned are given respite from their punishment each Sunday.5 This account illustrates the early form of the tradition that those who commit different sins receive different, appropriate punishments. At first this principle is implied. The first sight St. Paul sees, before the gates of hell, is *[blrennynge tres bat neuer slakes* 1. 14). Upon these burning trees hang sinners, each by a different body part: Mony on for heore synne bonne Ueore I-pyned and honged ber-onne: Summe bi hondes and bi feet bere, Summe bi be her, summe bi bo ere, Summe bi be Armes bat weore longe, And summe ber hengen bi be tonge. The next torment Paul sees is a "caudren brennynge at enes / Of diuerse colours wib seue 1 ernes* (Horstmann 11. 21-22). The sinners therein are "for heore synne / [d]iuersliche I- pynet . . . (Horstmann, 11. 23-24). It is not stated but perhaps different sins are punished by the seven pains contained within the cauldron—those of snow, ice, fire, blood, adders, lightning, 205 and stink (Horstmann 11. 25-32). At any rate, within the cauldron "vche reseyued aftur his deedes" (Horstmann 11. 38). It is in the description o-f a lake of torment that the principle o-f appropriate punishment is most -fully illustrated and explained. Paul and his guide, the archangel Michael, come to a "wondur orible grisly flod" in which swim many devilish beasts that eat and gnaw sinners (Horstmann 11. 56). The souls o-f righteous men sa-fely cross over this flood upon a bridge, but sinners fall off the bridge into the water, "her to take and resseyue so / As hei on eorhe deserueden to" (Horstmann 11. 73- 74; cf. 11. 85-86). The narrator expands upon the form the just deserts will take in a gloss upon the line "Ligate per fasciculos ad comburendum." Sinners who fall off the bridge will be bound in "knucchenus" To brenne, lyk to licchi, Spous-brekers wih lechours, Rauisschers wih rauisschours, Uikked wih wikked also (Horstmann 11. 78-81). Paul next observes that the sinful souls are immersed to different levels in the "pyne" of the flood. Summe to he kne, and summe to he hipes, Summe to he nauel, summe to he lippes, And summe he sau3 bi-suyled as souwes In hat pyne vp to he brouwes (Horstmann 11. 89-92). The catalogue is like the opening one in which the sinful souls are suspendedby various body parts, but this time theconnection between different sins and different levels of immersion is 20 4 explicitly stated. Paul asks his guide why some o-f the souls were immersed to the knee. Michael explains that those immersed to the knee "Bacbyters o-f men, / pat in word and dede . . . / Hyndren heor euencristen pat pei may" (Horstmann 11. 100-102). Those immersed to the navel were "Cslpousbrekers and lechours" (Horstmann 1. 104). Those immersed up to the lips "IsJtryf and langelyng in chirche dude make, / Vche to opur Iangled wip scorn- - / To heere godus wordus pei han forborn" (Horstmann 11. 108- 110). Those immersed above the eyes, to the brows, "weore glade of pe mischeef / Of heore neih3bors and of heore greef” (Horstmann 11. 113-114). As Paul turns toward another part of hell, he views a sequence of places, each reserved for a punishment appropiate to a particular class of sinner. First he sees men and women who ■for-freten heore owne tonges” (Horstmann 1. 122). Michael explains that "pei vsuden Ocur and vsuri} / Merciable weore pei nouht” (line 124-127). Black maidens in black clothing boil in pitch and brimstone while burning dragons and serpents "Chlongynge aboute heor nekkes” gnaw them "to don hem schom, / To-tere pe fflesch from pe bon” (Horstmann 11. 134-138). Michael explains that these were unchaste girls who ”lyuede in . . . lecherie* and slew their illegitimate children, but who nonetheless "schewed hem to Pe worldus degre / As pei maydens hedden i-be" (Horstmann 11. 159-140). Next Paul sees lean men and women, ”wip-outen flesche,” who are unable to touch the food 207 that lies before them. These "likerous" souls had -failed to -fast on earth. Few individuals are singled out inPaul's vision, and none are named. One "Old mon sat ber wepynge /Bi-twene -fourdeueles foul 3ellynge" (Horstmann 11. 175-176). Rather than representing one sin, he has led, in general, a sinful life, as Michael explains: He was Neclygent a3eynes forbod And Kepte not be lawes of God, He nas not chast of bodi i-sou3t Ne of herte ne of his bou3t, But euer he was Couetous, Proud of herte and contrarius; berof nolde he him not schriue Ne do no penaunce . . . (Horstmann 11. 179-186). This is as specific as the vision becomes. No attempt is made, for example, to describe how the old man manifested his covetousness. The old man neither moves nor speaks. He sits like an element of a tableau between the four howling devils. The Vision of the Monk of Eynsham provides a strong contrast to this redaction of the Visio Sancti Pauli. In it, as we have seen, are individuals who are recognized by the visionary and identified by profession. It is true that the strong element of social criticism sometimes takes the form of depiction of categories of sinners as opposed to individuals. For example, the powerful and rich, including those in religious vocations, come in for especial criticism: Trewly of tho persons [being tormented in purgatory] mony were bisshoppis and abbotys and other were of 2 0 8 other digniteees. Sothely some flowryd in prosperite in the spyrytualte. Some in the temporalt and some in relygon: the whiche were seyn ponisht in dowbulle sorowe aboue other persons. For y sawe them that were clerkys / Monkys / Noonys / laymen and lay wemen so mekyl lesse ordende and put to peynys howe mekyl the lesse they had before of worldely dygnyte and prosperyte. In trowthe y sawe hem greuyd in a more special bittirnesse of peynys aboue other, the whyche y knewe in my tyme were Iugys and Prelatys of other. But, although those who prospered on earth are singled out for the most dreadful punishments, the visionary sees members of all classes undergoing purgation. In a "certen regyon. that was ful wyde and brode" the visionary and his guide see *a company innumerabulle of men and women of euery condicion of euery profession and of euery ordyr There were the doers of al synnys ordente to dyuers kyndes of peynes after the diuersite of synnes and qualite of person” (Arber 36). But we also meet individuals. For example, a goldsmith confesses that he has amassed money through deceit and he suffers for it by perpetually pantomiming his greedy behavior: In my grafte Ccrafte? (Arber)I also by the whiche y gate to me and to myn owre leuyng in the world often tymes in my beginnyng y begylde and dysceyued the pepulle for the fere of pouerte And now for that y am ful bitturly ponyshte .... Trewly often tyme y haue ben caste downe hed longe into a grete hepe of brennyning money amonge the whiche y brente ful intolerably. And tho fyrye pensys y was compellyd to deuoure with an opyn mowthe that y felte alle my bowellys to brenne in me And hethir to often times y am compel 1yd to telle hem and of the towchyng of hem myne handys and fyngers ben fore peynde.” (Arber 52) As we have seen, the goldsmith's narrative is only one of several confessions heard by the dreamer. For example, he recognizes and 209 questions a doctor of law whom he had Known in life, and he listens to a prior describe his negligent leadership and its consequences (Arber 65). In addition to these narratives, descriptions of clothing and appearance help create the sense that here are portraits of individuals, not allegorical figures. This is not to say, however, that some details of appearance are not conventional. It seems to me that these portraits of individual sinners have something in common with those in Passus VI and VII of the C-Text of Piers Plowman. These portraits seem detailed, lively, the sinners individuals. They include details of dress and appearance and rely heavily on the sinners7 narratives of their own lives and misdeeds. What accounts for the similarity between the sinners in the visions and the Sins in Piers Plowman? Neither the Sins in Piers nor the sinners in the visions are invariably adversaries that a soul has to battle either before or after death. In spite of the labels given them in Piers, some of the "Sins* are in fact individuals. Wrath is indeed an allegorical figure—his "confession” details his success in provoking wrath in other people. But Gula is not the sin of gluttony but a gluttonous man who details his misadventures because of his lapses. The sinners in purgatory can be purged; analogously, the individualized Sins in Piers can amend their 1ives. 210 Langland does organize his material within the format provided by the convention of seven deadly sins, but within this organization he handles the description and dialogue more in ways found in the later visions, which, though not organized according to any confession formula, were nonetheless filled with confessions. The matter of the non-visionary confessions, however, is often simply not the matter of Passus VI and VII. Look, for example, at the Vices and Virtues, a Middle English dialogue contemporaneous with the vision of the Monk of Eynsham. Much of it is taken up by a soul's confession to Reason. The soul confesses to many sins, including several deadly ones. But, though each "confession” is put into the mouth of this sinful soul, it is in fact the voice of the preacher that we hear. The confession contains no vivid narratives filled with place and name and color. Instead, each division is an exposition upon such matters as the etymology of the name of the sin or the relationship of one sin to another. Each sin is illustrated by a Biblical narrative, or a Biblical quotation is expounded upon. Sometimes a passage will hint at the types found in Piers, but more common is this passage of exposition: This cursed spirit [of sorrow] makes the religious man, who has renounced all worldly things for God's love, sorrowful and dreary and heavy in God's works, and often causes [him] to regret that he ever has done so. So he [the spirit of sorrow] does the men who have promised to forsake sins, and so he does also the men who have promised God to do good, or to seek saints, or to fast, or to do some other good thing. In every wise he tries how he may hinder good works, or cause them to be done with displeasure, and with sorrow, and 211 unbli thely^ The Sins were depicted in numerous ways during the Middle Ages—Sins were associated with parts of the body, Sins were depicted as animals themselves 149), or specific animals served as steeds of specific sins (Lumen animae; Bloomfield 138). Sins could be depicted as Knights that had to be overcome (Queste del Saint Grael. c. 1220: Bloomfield 121). Sins could be daughters of the devil, each to be married to the social class must susceptible to that vice (Jacques de Vitry, Sermones vuloares: Bloomfield 129). But Sins could also be depicted as individuals—as the proud man, for example, or the wrathful man, as is the case in the Ancren Riwle (Bloomfield 149). Bloomfield suggests that '[tlhe presentation of each Sin as a man (in the Ancren Riwle) foreshadows the types which are to appear in Piers Plowman. The ultimate source is no doubt confessional practice, confession formulas, and sermons* (Bloomfield 151). But perhaps we can add another source, the tradition of visions of the otherworld, in which increasingly we meet sinners who are typical yet individualized, who recite narratives of their lives, their transgressions, and woefully lament their weaknesses. I 'll close by mentioning a gap that Bloomfield senses as he tries to trace the source of the presentation of the Sins as men. He describes a wall painting (c. 1200) in a village church that portrays the Seven Sins: 212 . . . it Clike the Ancren Riwle] seems to have . . . sprung up mature, almost unfathered and in apparent isolation from time. It would f it our preconceived notions better if both the Ancren Riwle and the painting at Chaldon could be dated later. . . . Lost literature and lost art probably explains, in both cases, the apparent uniqueness and technical facility. One expects a native tradition into which the Riwle and the nave paintings at Chaldon can f it. Possibly it was there. (Bloomfield 152) I think it was there. True, the Gregorian Sins—and Bloomfield is on the lookout for texts that explicitly develop those sins— do not figure in a major way in the visions. But the portraits of individuals as representative sinners are there. 1 think what we have in Piers is a coming together of both traditions—the Gregorian labels, but also the kind of portrait found in the visions. Perhaps, then, we had better extend to seven Bloomfield's list of the six genres that influenced Piers PIowman. And perhaps we had better look to the one literary tradition that mixed allegorical figures with "real” ones to explain the type of characters that are found in Piers Plowman. \ 1 do not wish to suggest that it is not profitable to examine Piers Plowman within the context of then-current eschatological ideas. But I hope that the above remarks suggest that it may be equally profitable to examine Piers within the context of the literary tradition of the apocalypse and its descendant, the otherworld journey. NOTES Abbreviations ANT ...... James, Montague Rhodes. The Apocryphal New Testament. Oxford: Clarendon, 1924. APOT ...... Charles, R. H., ed. The Apocrypha and Pseudepioraoha o-f the Old Testament in English. 2 vols. Oxford: Clarendon, 1913. EETS ...... Early English Text Society. London, 1864-. NTA...... New Testament Apocrypha. 2 vols. Ed. Edgar Hennecke et a l. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1963, 1965. PG ...... Patrolooiae Cursus Comoletus . . . Serjes Graeca. Ed. J.-P. Migne. 161 vols. Paris, 1857-1866. PL ...... Patrolooiae Cursus Comoletus . . . Series Latina. Ed. J.-P. Migne. 221 vols. Paris, 1844-1864. OTP ...... Chariesworth, James H. The Old Testament Pseudepioraoha. 2 vols. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983. Chapter I. 1 Howard Rol1 in Patch, The Other World According to Descriptions in Medieval Literature (Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1950). 2 Hans Robert Jauss, "The Alterity and Modernity, of Medieval Literature," New Literary History 10 (1979): 202. g Elizabeth Salter and Derek Pearsall, Piers Plowman (Evanston, IL: Northwestern UP, 1967) 23-24. 4 Erich Auerbach, "Figura," in Scenes from the Drama of European Literature (NY, 1959) 61; quoted in Salter and Pearsall 24. 213 214 Jauss has medieval precedent -tor employing a broad interpretation o-f the term "allegory." Robert P. Miller suggests that the word "had a much broader meaning in the Middle Ages than it has today” and adduces as evidence Bede's definition o-f allegory in De schematibus et tropis (Chauceri Sources and Backgrounds [NY: Oxford UP, 1977] 42). Cf. the definitions in Dante A1ighieri's Letter to Can Grande (Miller 81), Isidore of Seville's Etymolooiae (Miller 81 n 2), and Giovanni Boccaccio's The Genealogy of the Paoan Gods (Miller 91 n 6). ^The strength of the visionary tradition in the British Isles may result from the influence of Irish writers, who seem to have had access to apocalypses subsequently lost or only partially preserved. R. H. James identifies the Evernew Tonoue as an Irish translation of a now-lost Latin text of an Apocalypse of Philip. Another apocalypse, yet unnamed, survives in fragments of Latin and appears to have been incorporated into the Irish Vision of Adamnan (ANT 505). See also M. R. James, "Irish Apocrypha," Journal of Theological Studies 20 (1918): 9-16. One of the most influential of the early medieval visions is that of the Irish saint Furseus. On the influence of his visions in both England and the continent, see John T. McNeill, The Cel tic Churches: A History A.D. 200 to 1200 (Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1974) 170. The insular visionary tradition survives into the fifteenth century. See A Revelation of Purgatory by an Unknown Fifteenth-Century Woman Visionary; Introduct ion. Cr i t ical Text, and Translation, ed. Marta Powell Harley (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen, 1985). See especially p. 13 for this vision's relationship to the Visio Sancti Pauli. the visions of Dryhthelm and Tundale, and the Legend of S t. Patrick's Purgatory. ^For an English translation of the Vision of Adamnan and a study of its sources and influence, see C. S. Boswell, An Irish Precursor of Dante (London: David Nutt, 1908). ®The earliest version of the tale of St. Patrick's purgatory is found in the Flores Historiarum of Roger of Wendover (F. W. Locke, "A New Date for the Composition of the Tractatus de Puroatorio Sancti Patricii" [Speculum 40 (1965)]: 642). See Henry 0. Coxe, ed., Rooeri de Wendover Chronica. Sive Flores Historiarum (London, 1841) II: 256-71. For an English translation, see J. A. Giles, trans., Roger of Wendover's Flowers of History (London, 1859) II: 510-22. For a thirteenth-century English version, see the Life of St. Patrick (with his Puroatory) in The South Enolish Legendary. Vol. 1, eds. Charlotte D'Evelyn and Anna J. Mill. EETS OS 235 (1956). o Arnold Barel Van Os, Relioious Visions: The Development of the Eschatolooical Elements in Mediaeval Enolish Relioious Li terature (Amsterdam: H. J. Paris, 1932). 215 Chapter II *7he Apocalypse o-f Daniel was probably composed in Greek in the -first decade o-f the ninth century. See G. T. Zervos, Appealypse of Daniel. OTP I: 756. The "Falasha" Apocalypse of Goroorios is assigned by one scholar to the -fourteenth century ^Silverstein, Visio Sancti Pauli. 220-21. For quotations and allusions that testify to English knowledge of the Visio Sancti Pauli during the period A.D. 597 to 1066, see the entry for apocrypha in J. D. A. Ogilvy, Books Known to the Enolish: 216 597-1066 (Cambridge, MA, 1967). *The extent of visionary activity in the twelfth century is dramatically conveyed in the early thirteenth-century preface written by the redactor of the Vision of Thurkill. who places the narrative within the tradition of previous and contemporary otherworld visions in an attempt to gain credibility for the vision. He mentions the early (6th century) but influential Dialogues of Gregory but also the twelfth century visions of Tundale and Eynsham and the Legend of S t. P atricks Purgatory. He suggests that visions in his day are occurring frequently because the end is at hand, a rationale identical to that offered six hundred years earlier by St. Gregory (H. L. D. Ward, 'The Vision of Thurkill" Journal of the British Archaeological Assoc iat ion 81 (1875): 425-26, 440-42; Odo John Zimmerman, trans., Saint Gregory the Great: Dialogues (The Fathers of the Church, Vol. 39 INY, 19593) 250-51. ^Morton W. Bloomfield, Piers Plowman as a Fourteenth-Century Appealypse. (New Brunswick, NJ: 1963) 10. O P. Vielhauer, Introduction to "Apocalypses and Related Subjects," trans. from the German by David Hill, NTA II: 582, 586. Henceforth cited as Vielhauer 1965a. 1 will be relying heavily on the essays by Vielhauer and other scholars in Vol II of the NTA. According to Adele Yarbro Collins these essays must still be considered as "starting points" because of the dearth of other systematic studies ("The Early Christian Apocalypses," Semeia 14 [19793 [Apocalypse: The Morphology of a Genre! : 61. Henceforth cited as Yarbro Collins). 9 John J. Collins, "Introduction: Towards the Morphology of a Genre," Semeia 14 (1979): 2. Henceforth cited as Collins 1979a. *®For further discussion of the problem of defining "apocalypse," see Paul D. Hanson, The Dawn of Apocalyptic: The Historical and Sociological Roots of Jewish Apocalyptic Eschatolooy. Revised edition, (Philadelphia, 1979) 427-44. He carefully distinguishes between three levels of definition: the genre apocalypse, the perspective apocalyptic eschatolooy. and the religious movement apocalypticism (429): The term apocalypse should be applied strictly as a designation of a literary genre. It is one of the favored media adopted by apocalyptic seers for communicating their message, though it is not the exclusive nor even the dominant genre. Rather, it takes its place among other genres such as the testament, the sal vat ion-judgment oracle, and the parable as a means of giving expression to the 217 perspective o-f apocalyptic eschatology and as a vehicle -for expressing the ideology o-f an apocalyptic movement. As in the case o-f all genres, the apocalypse is not rigid but underwent a history of development over the biblical and post biblical period. <430) See also his article, "Apocalypse, Genre," in the Supplementary Volume of the Interpreters Dictionary of. the Bible (Nashville: Abingdon, 1976) 27-28; and Collins 1979a 3-4. **Cf. Bernard McGinn, who argues that the popular visions of the afterlife in the Middle Ages are one of the "twin offspring" of classical apocalypse (Visions of the End: Appealyptic Traditions in the Middle Aoes [NY: Columbia UP, 19793 15; the second of the "twin offspring* was prophecy or collections of prophecies). ^John J. Collins, "The Jewish Apocalypses," Semeia 14 (1979): 26: "All apocalypses . . . are concerned with human conduct on earth since this conduct becomes the basis for rewards and punishments in the next life." This article will henceforth be cited as Collins 1979b. 13 ‘"As an example of Christian interpolation in the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, see the eleventh testament, that of Joseph, which contains a symbolic dream-vision of the end of this period of history. Joseph tells his children that he dreamed (PG II: 1139: vidi somnia) that he saw twelve stags grazing together that became "scattered over the whole earth" (TJos 19: 2; PG II: 1139: Duodecim cervi pascebantur. et novem divisi erant et dispersi in terra). Somehow, in the last days, things will be made right. A "virgin . . . born from Judah" will give birth to a "spotless lamb" which will destroy the wild animals that rush at him (TJos 19: 6 ; PG II: 1139: ex Juda nata est viroo A i i Aonus immaculatus) . This brief passage concludes with the exhortation that the children of Joseph Keep the Lord/s commandments and honor Levi~and Judah, "because from their seed will arise theLamb of God who will take away the sin of the world, and will save all the nations, as well as Israel" (TJos 19: 11; PG I I : 1139: ouoniam ex iosis orietur vobis Aonus Dei. gratia sal vans omnes oentes. et Israel). For a discussion of interpolations, see Charles, APOT II: 291. 14See for example John B. Gabel and Charles Uheeler, The Bible As Li terature: An Introduction (NY: Oxford UP, 1986) 129. Henceforth cited as Gabel and Uheeler. ^All English translations of the Testaments wi11 be taken from H. C. Kee, Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs. OTP I: 777- 78. All Latin translations will be taken from Robert 218 Grosseteste's Latin translation, which is printed alongside his Greek source in the PG II: 1037-1150. **0n the visionary -formula "I saw," see Yarbro Collins 82, 85, 90, 93. See also JacquesLe Goff, The Birth of Purgatory, trans. Arthur Goldhammer, (Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1984) 36. 17The nature of Jewish beliefs about the "last days" and "last things" is surveyed by John J. Collins in "Apocalyptic Eschatology as the Transcendence of Death," Catholic Biblical Quarterly 36 (1974): 21-43. 18The description and explanation of the seven heavens form parts of the second and third chapters of the Testament of Levi (PG II: 1054): II. Et ingrediebar de primo coelo in secundum, et vidi illic aquam suspensam in medio hujus et illius. Et vidi tertium coelum multo lucidius quam duos: etenim altitudo erat in ipso infinita. . . . III. Audi ergo de septem coelis: lnferius propterea tristius est, quia istud juxta omnes injustitias hominum est. Secundum habet ignem, nivem, glaciem, parata in diem praecepti Domini, in justo judicio Dei; in ipso sunt omnes spiritus retributionum in vindictam iniquorum. In tertio sunt virtutes castrorum, ordinatae in diem judicii, ad faciendum vindictam in spiritibus error is et Beliar. In quarto autem superius his sancti sunt; quoniam in supremo omnium habitat magna gloria in Saneto sanctorum, supra omnem sanctitatem. In hoc angeli sunt faciei Dei, ministrantes et propitiantes apud Dorn inurn in omnibus ignorantiis justorum. Offerunt vero Domino odorem suavitatis rationalem, et sine sanguine oblationem. In eo autem quod subtus est, sunt angeli qui ferunt responsiones angel is faciei Domini. In eo vero quod post hoc est, sunt throni et potestates, in quo hymni semper Deo offeruntur. Quando ergo respexerit Dominus super nos, commovemur omnes nos; et coeli, et terra, et abyssi, a facie magnitudinis ejus commoventur: filii autem hominum in his existentes insensibiles peccabunt, et irritabunt Altissimum. 19 There are two Greek versions, each of which is based, according to Charles, on an independent Hebrew version (APOT II 286). One version preserves the tradition of three heavens; the other alters the three heavens into seven (APOT I 304 n. on II: 7-II1). Grosseteste's Latin translation reflects the later tradition of seven heavens. 21? 20 For the belie* in demonic interference in human affairs, see Morton Smith, quoted in Jacob Neusner, Judaism; The Evidence of the Mishnah (Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1981) 30-31. 21 There is almost universal agreement that the Revel at ion of John is pseudonymous. See for example Uielhauer, who argues that the author writes "under his own name" (1965a 607). See also P. Vielhauer, Introduction to "Apocalyptic in Early Christianity," NTA II: 623; and John J. Collins, who devotes an article to explaining why John dispensed with the convention of pseudonymity ("Pseudonymity, Historical Reviews and the Genre of the Revelation of John," Catholic Biblical Quarterly 39 [19773: 329- 43) But see Gabel and Uheeler 134 and 140. 22 Ch. Mauer, Apocalypse of Peter, trans. from the German by David Hill, NTA II: 667. Henceforth cited as Mauer. 23 G. H. Box, Introduction to The Ascension of Isaiah, trans. R. H. Charles, (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 191?) xxiii-xxiv. Chanter III *W. Schneemelcher, "Later Apocalypses," trans. from the German by E. Best, NTA II: 751. 2 In a homily that survives only in a Latin translation, Origen summarizes an episode from an Apocalypse of Abraham in which righteous and iniquitous angels argue over the disposition of a soul, perhaps that of Abraham (Montague Rhodes James, The Lost Apocrypha of the Old Testament. [London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 19203 16-17; cf. the Apocalypse of Paul). Also surviving in Latin translation is a reference by Origen to the Apocalypse of Elias, a book likewise known to Jerome. A fragment from the Appealypse has survived in an eighth century MS as the Epistle of Ti tus. the disciple of Paul. which recounts how an angel showed Elias Gehenna, where sinners were suffering appropriate hanging punishments (James 53-55, 57). In the fourth century an Apocalypse of Adam was referred to in Latin by Nicetas of Remesiana (James 3). From a lost book of Baruch Cyprian quotes, in Latin, a passage that is similar to one in the surviving Syriac Apocalypse of Baruch (James 77-78). Jerome draws on an Apocalypse of Zacharias in a commentary on Matthew, but may be dependent on Origen for his knowledge of the book (James 75-76). 3 For the Acts of Thomas, see the ANT 388-93. For the V i s i on of Ezra, see Yarbro Collins 87-88. 220 4 J. Flemming and H. Duensing, The Ascension of Isaiah, trans. -from the German by David Hill, NTA II: 642, 643. 5 G. H. Box puts its composition in the -first century (Introduction to The Ascension o-f Isaiah, trans. R. H. Charles [London: SPCK, 19193 pp. x-xi). *For -further discussion o-f the composite nature o-f the the Ascension,, see Flemming and Duensing 642-43. 7 'Flemming and Duensing 643. The Latin -fragments o-f the translation o-f the complete Greek Ascension (cap. 2:14-3:13 and 7:1-19) are printed in R. H. Charles, ed. and trans., The Ascension o-f Isaiah (London: Adam and Charles Black, 1900) 87-92, 102-108 (henceforth cited as Charles). Q Charles 42, 98. See also The Martyrdom of Isaiah. trans. R. H. Charles, APOT II: 155, 156-57. o An edition, based on a lost MS, was published in 1522, and this text was reprinted in 1832 (Flemming and Duensing 643). A modern edition was published in Charles 98-139. All Latin quotations wi11 be taken from that edition. *®The translations are mine, but the versions of Flemming and Duensing and Charles were consulted. **The word ave is a corruption of me; the older Latin fragment of the Ascension preserves the 1ine asq u o me tolles (Charles 103). 12 John J. Collins, "Apocalyptic Eschatology As the Transcendence of Death," Catholic Bib!ical Quarterly 36 (1974) 32-33. 12On the nature of the spiritual garments, see Charles 34- 36. See also Box, who reports an analogue in the Slavonic Enoch. in which the ""garments' of the blessed are to be composed of God's glory" (Box xxiv). ^Compare with Revelation 19: 10, where the visionary makes a similar mistake: "And I fell down before his feet, to adore him [his guide]. And he saith to me: See thou do it not. I am thy fellow-servant and of thy brethren who have the testimony of Jesus. Adore God. (Et dieit mihi: Vide ne feceris: conservus tuus sum, et fratrum tuorum habentium testimonium Iesu. Deum adora.) ***The inability—or unwillingness—of men to profess belief in an unseen God is the motivating force behind the fourth book 221 o-f Gregory's Dialogues, in which St. Gregory tries to demonstrate the existence o-f an invisible world, largely through narratives of visions that demonstrate the existence of a soul that lives on after the death of the body (Zimmerman 191): After falling from that noble state he [Adam] . . . lost the inner light which enlightened his mind. Born as we are of his flesh into the darkness of this exile, we hear, of course, that there is a heavenly country, that angels are its citizens, and that the spirits of the just live in company with them; but being carnal men without any experimental knowldege of the invisible, we wonder about the existence of anything we cannot see with our bodily eyes. Adam could not possibly have entertained such doubts, for, although he was excluded from the happiness of paradise, he remembered what he had lost, because he had once known it. Carnal men, on the other hand, cannot remember or appreciate these joys when they hear about them, because, unlike, him, they have no past experience to fall back on. (Zimmerman 190) ^Compare the process of the Son's transformation with the progression of changes experienced by the soul descending to earth as it is described by Macrobius in his encyclopedic analysis of the dream of Scipio in Cicero's De re. oublica. In Macrobius's interpretation, the "soul descends from the sky to the infernal regions of this life" (Macrobius, Commentary on the Dream of Scipio. trans. William Harris Stahl [NY: Columbia U P, 1952] 133). As the souls journey "from the sky to the earth," they must pass through a "portal" created when the circle of the Milky Way crosses that of the zodiac: So long as the souls heading downwardsstill remain in Cancer they are considered in the company of the gods, since in that position they have not yet left the Milky Way. But when in their descent they have reached Leo, they enter upon the first stages of their future condition. . . . the first steps of birth and certain primary traces of human nature are found in Leo. . . . (Stahl 134) By the impulse of the first weight the soul, having started on its downward course from the intersection of the zodiac and the Milky Way to the successive spheres, not only takes on the aforementioned envelopment in each sphere by approaching a luminous body, but also acquires each of the attributes which it will exercise later. (Stahl 136) 222 These lines are taken -from I Corinthians 2:9: Quod oculus non v idi t . nec auris audivit. nec in cor hominis ascendit. ouae oraeoarav i t Deus i is ou i di1iount i11um■ 18The conclusion o-f the vision, in which the visionary is told that he must return to the world, is typical of apocalypse. Cf. the end of the apocalyptic section of Daniel, where the angel instructs Daniel to "go thou thy ways until the time appointed: and thou shalt rest and stand in thy lot unto the end of the days" (Daniel 12: 13; Tu . . . vade ad oraefini turn: et reouiesces. et stabis in sorte tua in f inem dierum) . In the medieval otherworld visions, however, the visionary typically does not return to wait out the final days before the end of time. Instead, a visionary in need of personal reform is shown what awaits him and is then given, through the mercy of God, time to reform himself and make amends for his sins. The eschatology is purely personal in the latter case. 19 Writing of the visionary-narrator in Piers Plowman. J. A. Burrow asserts that "it is his dissatisfaction with his successive visions which drives the poem along" ("Words, Works, and Will: Theme and Structure in Piers Plowman. in Piers PIowman: Critical Approaches, ed. S. S. Hussey [London: Methuen, 19691 124). The apocalypses, too, are driven forward by the dissatisfaction of the various dreamers or visionaries. 20H. Duensing, Apocalypse of Paul. trans. from the German by E. Best, NTA II: 755-56. 21 It is impossible to understate the influence of the Visio Sancti Pauli. which is given a prominent place in virtually every study of otherworld visions. On its popularity and influence see especially Silverstein, LMsio Sancti Pauli. 3-14. See also Yarbro Collins 85 and Le Goff, who states that the "Apocalypse of Paul . . . exerted the greatest influence in the Middle Ages and . . . was an important point of reference not only for Saint Patricks Purgatory, a late twelfth-century document that played a crucial role in the birth of Purgatory, but also for Dante" (Le Goff 33; see also 35-36). **Si22 gloriari oportet (non expedit quidem), veniam autem ad visiones et revelationes Domini. Scio hominem in Christo ante annos quatuordecim, sive in corpore nescio, sive extra corpus nescio, Deus scit, raptum huiusmodi usque ad tertium caelum. Et scio huiusmodi hominem sive in corpore, sive extra corpus nescio, Deus scit: quoniam raptus est in paradisum: et audivit arcana verba, quae non licet homini loqui. (II Cor. 12: 1- 4) 223 ^iontague Rhodes James, Apocrypha Anecdota: A Col lect ion o-f Thirteen Apocryphal Books and Fragments (Cambridge: At the University Press, 1893) 11. Unless otherwise noted, Latin passages will be quoted from this edition o-f a French manuscript o-f the eighth century, which will hence-forth be cited as AA. According to Yarbro Collins, this is the “oldest and best witness to the text o-f the Apocalypse o-f Paul . . .* (Yarbro Collins 85). English translations will be taken unless otherwise noted -from James's ANT. 94 A passage -from Si 1verstein's St. Gall MS (SiIverstein, Visio Sancti Paul i . 137) is here substituted -for the version in James's MS, which is badly corrupted. See ANT 537 and Duensing 773 n 4. 25 Compare with Gregory's motive -for composing his Dialogues. See above n 15. 2 6“Description o-f a vision seen by a monk o-f the monastery at Uenlock," trans. by Edward Kylie, in The Enolish Correspondence o-f Saint Boni-face (London: Chatto and Uindus, 1924); repr. in The Letters o-f Saint Boniface. trans. Ephraim Emerton (Records of Civilization No. 31 [NY: Columbia U P, 19403) 25. Henceforth cited as Kylie. 27 Compare with the Dream of Scipio. in which Scipio looks down at the earth (Stahl 25). In spite of the apparent similarity between the two narrators looking down upon a diminished earth, the Vision of the Monk of U)enlock and other medieval visions that share its narrator's vantage point can be traced to the Visio Sancti Pauli because of the fact that the earth is surrounded and threatened by flames, a detail lacking in Scipio's vision. ^®The nature of appropriate punishment in the Visio Sancti Pauli and other apocalypses.is examined in Himmelfarb, passim. Her third chapter is devoted to "measure-for-measure punishments.” 29 The relationship between sexual offenses and the punishment of hanging by the hair is clearer in other surviving apocalypses. For example, in the Ethiopic version of the Apocalypse of Peter. which, in an earlier form, may have been the source of much of the Visio Sancti Pauli. the punishment is explained as resulting from the fact that women “plaited their hair not to create beauty, but to turn to fornication" (Himmelfarb 68 ). Such reasoning may account for the fact that shaving of the head was a punishment for sexual offenses committed by Jewish women (Himmelfarb 74). 224 30 wSi1verstein's St. Gall MS is used here because it preserves the renunciation o-f seculo. whereas James's MS has the renunciation o-f deos. ^Among32 the recensions o-f the Visio Sanct Paul i is one which presents this dialogue more elaborately. However, this recension tells the story in the third person instead of the first person of the Long Latin versions: . . . interrogauit angel urn qui essent dimersi usque ad genua. Et dixit angelus, 'Hii sunt qui furtum fecerunt et rapinam et luxuriant, et inde penitenciam non egerunt et ad ecclesiam non uenerunt.' 'Domine, qui sunt hii qui usque ad umbilicum?' Respond it angelus, 'Hii sunt qui fornicantur et postquam assumpserunt corpus et sanguinem domini nostri lesu Christi, et non sunt reuersi ad penitenciam usque ad mortem.' 'Domine, qui sunt hii qui usque ad labia?' 'Hii sunt detractores et falsi testes et qui murmurauerunt in ecclesia et non audierunt uerbum domini.' 'Qui usque ad supercilia?' 'Hii sunt qui fictum animum habent in corde et anuunt mala proximis suis, dum fidem habent ad illos. Et unusquisque homo qui hoc peccatum facit, si non penitebit, cadit in infernum, sicut illi fecerunt.' 33 On the place of the Visio Sancti Pauli in the history of the development of the idea of purgatory, see Le Goff 34-38. Chapter IV *W. Schneemelcher, General Introduction, trans. from the German by George Ogg, NTA: I 48. 2 Gordon Hall Gerould, Saints' Legends. (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1914) 204. 3 For the influence of the Vi sio Sancti Pauli on the Body- Soul Legend in its various forms, see Antonette DiPaolo Healey, The Old Enolish Vision of S t. Paul. Speculum Anniversary Monographs Two (Cambridge, MA: The Medieval Academy of America, 1978) 42-48. 225 4 P. Vielhauer, Introduction to "Apocalyptic in Early Christianity," NTA II: ^Kirsopp Lake, ed. and trans., "The Shepherd of Hermas," in The Apostolic Fathers (Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1976) II: 2. ^Charles's explanation is not universally accepted. His portrait of a monolithic Judaism has been altered since he issued his book in 1913. See, for example, Robert S. MacLennan and A. Thomas Kraabel, who speak of "the erroneus assumption that Judaism in the Roman empire was monolithic and everywhere the same. . . ." ("The God-Fearers—A Literary and Theological Invention," Bib!ical Archaeology Review 12 no. 5 119863: 51). See also Kraabel, "The Roman Diaspora: Six Questionable Assumptions," Journal of Jewish Studies 33 [19823: 453-54.) Views have also changed about the role of prophesy in Judaism. Prophesy was not closed, and some prophets issued their prophecies under their own names. P. Vi elhauer describes Judaism under the Greek and Roman occupations as "by no means without prophets (as a popular theory maintains) but . . . in fact rich in prophetic figures." He uses the writings of the historian Josephus and of Rabbinic scholars to document the activities of prophets, who were particularly active among the Essenes. But prophets were found among almost all groups. Pharisees prophesied at the court of Herod, and even priests, champions of the Law, could be seized by ecstasy. A peasant, Jesus ben Chananiah, "alarmed Jerusalem for years with his sinister prophesying of disaster," and, just as Jesus, in the New Testament accounts, was preceded by the prophet John, so did the prophet R. Akiba precede the Messiah Simon bar Cosiba. (Introduction to "Apocalypses and Related Subjects," NTA II: 601- 602; cf. 602-605.) ^The Revelation of John encountered even more difficulty in the East, where, even as late as the ninth century, its canonicity may have been questioned by some (Schneemelcher 40) In the Stichometry of Nicephorus, who was the patriarch of Constantinople during the years 806 to 818, the Revelation of John is "gainsaid" (Schneemelcher 50). e Robert Ernest Wallis, trans., "The Passion of the Holy Martyrs Perpetua and Felicitas," The Ante-Nicene Christian Library. (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1869) XIII: 276. 9For example, 1 and 2 Peter are both pseudonymous (Gabel and Wheeler 179). *®The Story of Zosimus is difficult to date. Its present form dates to the fifth or sixth century, but it may be built upon an earlier work that came into being before the middle of 226 the third century **John J. Collins, ■Pseudonymity, Historical Reviews and the Genre o-f the Revelation of John,“ Cathol ic Bibl ical Quarterly 39 [19773: 333. “1 2 ’Cf. Eusebius of Caesarea, Church History I ll .i i i : Since the apostle in the closing salutations of the Epistle to the Romans has made mention among others of Hermas Chapter V *Kirsopp Lake, ed. and trans., "The Shepherd of Hermas,* in The Apostolic Fathers (Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1976) 11: 2. Vielhauer 1965b 630. Cf. 635: Hermas no doubt wishes to write an Apocalypse, but the apocalyptic framework embraces no apocalyptic picture. The Mandates include exhortation, traditional ethical sayings which the author arranges thematically, works out in an interpretative fashion and casts partly in the form of dialogue. Vielhauer 1965b 638: All these are fixed tra its in the picture of the future End-time which threatens the whole of mankind. But in Vis. IV they are not used for apocalyptic description; they are “de-eschatologized" and re-interpreted. Hermas *does not catch sight in advance, in a visionary way, of a fragment of the End-time but, on a walk in the neighbourhood of Rome, experiences in a vision phenomena of the End-time as personal menaces in the present . . . The peculiar character of the Beast- vision is thus explained by the fact that the author has individualized apocalyptic terrors" (Dibelius,op . 227 ci t . . p. 485). In a modification of this kind a new understanding of existence seeks expression. "This process of individualization corresponds to an alteration in the Christian hope which was significant for that time: it is not the fate of mankind at the end of days, but the fate of the individual at the end of his life that is the centre of interest" Cf. 435: The presence of paraenesis and allegory would not in itself argue against the apocalyptic character of the book, for both appear in Apocalypses. Allegory, in particular, is a stylistic feature in Apocalyptic, while every early Jewish and Christian Apocalypse has a paraenetic angle. But in that case, paraenesis and allegory are eschatologically determined, whereas this eschatological determination is absent from the Pastor Hermae. See also 434: The book belongs, if at all, only to a limited extent to the visionary literature .... All four visions ®0scar de Gebhardt and Adolfus Harnack, Hermae Pastor Graece. Addi ta Versione Lat ina Recentiore e. Codice Palatino. (Patrum Apostolicorum Opera Fasciculus 111), Lipsiae, J. C. Hinrichs, 1877) 3. ^Theodore Bogdanos, "'The Shepherd of Hermas7 and the Development of Medieval Visionary Allegory," Viator: Medieval and Renaissance Studies8 <1977): 35. 228 ^Dav id A. Trai 11, Walahfrid Strabo's Visio We 11 i n i : Text. Translation, and Commentary (Bern: Herbert Lang, 1974) 49. O ^Bernard McGinn, Visions o-f the End; Apocalyptic Tradi t ions in the Middle Aoes (New York: Columbia UP, 1979) 5. o Ernst Robert Curtius, European Literature and the Latin Middle Aoes. trans. William R. Trask (Princeton: Princeton U P, 1973) 103. 10PG II: 819-34. ^Robert Ernest Wallis, trans., "The Passion o-f the Holy Martyrs Perpetua and Felicitas." In The Writings o-f Cyprian. Bishop o-f Carthaoe. Vol. II. (Vol. XIII of the Ante-Nicene Christian Library) (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1869) 275. 12 The Passion o-f S. Perpetua (Texts and Studies Vol. I , No. 2, ed. J. Arm itage Robinson) (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1891; Rptd. 1967) 27. *^Women Writers o-f the Middle Aoes: A Critical Study o-f Texts -from Perpetua (*203) to Marouer i te Porete ( 41310) (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1984) 4-5. Chapter VI *For example, the Visio Sancti Pauli could not have been translated into Latin until nearly the end o-f the -fourth century (Yarbro Col 1 ins 85). 9 English quotations will be taken -from Zimmerman, op c i t . Latin passages will be taken from PL 66 : 125-204 for Book II and PL 77: 149-430 for Book IV. o In the Visio Sancti Pauli the visionary is instructed to look down by his guide: . . . the angel . . . said unto me: Look down upon the earth. And I looked down from heaven upon the earth and beheld the whole world, and it was as nothing in my sight . . . And I looked, and saw a great cloud of fire spread over the whole world, and said unto the angel: What is this, Lord? And he said to me: This is the unrighteousness that is mingled by the princes of sinners. . . . (ANT 530) [. . . angelus dixit mihi: Respice deorsum in terra. Et respexi de celo in terra, et uidi totum mundum, et 22? erat quasi nihil in conspectu meo . . . Et respexi et uidi nubem magnam igne spansam per omnem mundum, et dixi angelo: Quid est hoc, domine? Et dixit mihi: Haec A test bridge is featured in one of the redactions of the Visio Sancti Pauli. but it is not altogether clear whether Gregory has borrowed the test bridge from the redaction or the redactor has borrowed from Gregory. Nevertheless, the test bridge is not original with Gregory. See Patch passim. ^Cf, the case of the man on the point of death who "sees" a ship prepared to take him to Sicily. Peter asks why a ship would appear to the dying man, and Gregory replies that "The soul has no need of a conveyance. But it is not surprising that in the vision a man of flesh and blood saw an object which was physically real to him, and through it was given to understand that the soul is transported spiritually" <2immerman 235). The soul still trapped in the body can only understand through images. 7 The phrase flammis susoensos is reminiscent of the hanging punishments in the Visio Sancti Pau1i . ^Though Gregory catalogues six kinds of dreams and Macrobius only five, the Gregorian classification could easily be reduced to five if the first two categories were collapsed into one. A nightmare or insomnium is a dream caused by "mental or physical distress," and the latter cause encompasses dreams caused both by over indulgence in food and lack of it *The vision must have fallen within the years 630 to 648. Bede's source is the Latin life of St. Fursa, which may be found in the Acta Sanctorum Quotouot Toto Orbe Coluntur under January 16 <11: 399-419). ^Bertram Colgrave and R. A. B. Mynors, eds. and trans., Bede's Ecclesiastical History of the Enolish People (Oxford: Clarendon, 1969) 275. **Alan E. Bernstein, "Esoteric Theology: William of Auvergne on the Fires of Hell and Purgatory," Speculum 57 (1982): 509-10. l^Augustine, The City of God, trans. Henry Bettenson, 13The vis ion reportedly occurred in approximately 705 A.D. See J. E. King, ed. and trans., Baedae Opera Historica (Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1963) II: 252 n 1. 14King II: 256 n 1. ^Dryhthem's division o-f the otherworld into -four parts may reflect the idea that sinners may be divided into the mali. the non valde mali. the non valde boni. and the boni. But see Le Goff, The Birth of Purgatory. 115, 16Van Os on Poema Morale. ^The protagonist- of the V i s i on of the Monk of Eynsham will also witness the arrival of a sinner beseiged by a rout of demons. 18 A similar rescue will take place in Eynsham. where the rescuer first appears as a light but resolves into the Virgin Mary. 19 Peter Dinzelbacher, Vision und Vision!iteratur im M ittelalter (Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann, 1981) 169-70. Chanter VII *Pope Innocent III, On the Misery of the Human Condition. Donald R. Howard and Margaret Mary Dietz, eds. and trans. (NY: Bobbs-Merri11, 1969) 22. 2 On the analogical habit of mind, see C. S. Lewis, The Discarded Image: An Introduction to Medieval and Renaissance Li terature (Cambridge: At the University Press, 1964) 150, 152, 174. 3Since I am particularly interested in the British reception of the Latin visions, the discussion that follows will be based on this English metrical version. The most readily available edition is that of Eileen Gardiner, "The Vision of Tundale: A Critical Edition of the Middle English Text," diss., Fordham University, 1980. All citations will be to this edition. Page references will also be provided to an edition of the Latin prose account that the poet is adapting. The edition referred to is that of Albrecht Wagner, Visio Tnuodali: Lateinisch und A1tdeutsch (Erlangen: Von Andreas, 1882). 4 Leo J. Hines, "The Vision of Tundale: A Study of the Middle English Poem," diss., Univ. of Wisconsin, 1968, 121. 231 ^Erich Auerbach, *Figura,* in Scenes -front the Drama o-f European Li terature: Six Essays ^Peter Dronke, Dante and Medieval Lat in Tradi t ions (Cambridge; Cambridge U P, 1986) v iii. ^John O'Hanlon, Lives of the Irish Saints (Dublin; James Duffy, n.d.) I: 249. ^his endless destruction and reconstitution of souls is a common motif in visions of purgatory and hell. See Van Os 46. 9 See Van Os 3-4 on the 'decline* of the vision. *°The fifteenth-century translation of this revelation, published in 1482, was reprinted as no. 18 in Edward Arber's series of Enolish Reprints (The Revelation to the Monk of Eynsham [London, 18691). For the Latin source, see Herbert Thurston, ed., "Visio Monachi Eynsham,* Analecta Bollandiana 22 (1903); 225-319, henceforth cited as AB. The vision has also been edited by P. Michael Huber (*Visio Monachi de Eynsham," Romanische Forschunoen 16 (1904); 641-733 **Mary Flowers Braswell, The Medieval Sinner; Characterization and Confession i n the Li terature of the Enolish Middle Aoes (Rutherford, NJ; Fairleigh Dickinson U P, 1983). 12 Leonard E. Boyle, *The Fourth Lateran Council and Manuals of Popular Theology," in The Popular Li terature of Medieval England, ed. Thomas J. Heffernan (Knoxville: U of Tennessee Press [Studies in Literature 281, 1985): 30-31. 13 For examples of the soul exiting through the mouth, see E. Cobham Brewer, A Dictionary of Miracles (Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott, n.d; rpt. Detroit: Bale, 1966) 109, 459. Generally the soul in these examples takes the form of a dove. Chapter VI11 *-DereK Pearsall, Piers Plowman by Ui 11 iam Lanoland; An Edition of the C-Text (Berkeley and Los Angeles: U of CA P, 1978) 27 n 1. o Constance B. Hieatt, The Realism of Dream Visions: The Poetic Exoloitation of the Dream-Exoerience in Chaucer and his Contemporaries (The Hague and Paris: Mouton, 1967) 15. 3a . V. C, Schmidt, The Vision of Piers Plowman: A Complete Edition o£ the B-Text (London: J. M. Dent, 1978) XVIII: 391-96. 232 4 Morton U. Bloomfield, The Seven Deadly Sins; An Introduction to the History of a Relioious Concent. wi th Special Reference to Medieval Enol ish Li terature ^Carl Horstmann, The Minor Poems o-f the Vernon MS. Pt. 1, EETS 98 <1892): 251: 11. 3-8. ^Mces and Virtues. Being a Soul /s Confession o-f 1 ts Sins, wi th Reason's Descr ipt ion o-f the Virtues: A Middle-Enol i sh Dialogue o-f about 1200 A.P.. ed. and trans., Ferd. Holthausen, EETS 89 <1888): 2. WORKS CITED Abbreviations; see p. 213 Primary Appealypsis Esdrae. Apocalypsis Sedrach■ Visio Beati Esdrae. Ed. Otto Wahl. Vol. IV, Pseudepioraoha Veter is Testament; Graece. eds. A. M. Dennis and M. De Jonge. Leiden, 1977, pp. 22-51. Bede. 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